Roman Artifacts
by EmmaLennyEddie
Summary: The Romans, or so I've been told, have a nasty habit of collecting things and putting them on display. I'm starting to believe it, since, well... I'm in a cage at Spartan Fort Sinister. But Dad's with me, so everything should be just peachy. Oh, did I mention he hates Romans?
1. Caged

**Author's Note: This little ditty was inspired by a "Big Hero 6" Fanfiction one-shot that I can't quite recall, but it was very good. To get a hype, I tried to write something similar. Hehe. So please refrain from suing me.**

 **Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own the rights to "How To Train Your Dragon" franchise. If I did, Valka would be pushing up daisies. *chuckles* I hate her.**

...

"To ensure our safety, I strongly suggest that everyone quiets his or her voice and subdues all movement," the Roman prefect calmly advised with a smile. He waited for quiet and placed a gold-banded palm upon a large wooden door.

Behind him stood five excited young Spartans, ranging from ages twelve to twenty-five and situation from scholar to soldier. They had seldom things in common: all currently his students, all taught the beauty of Europe and war, and were equally excited to discover what wondrous thing lay behind the door. It was something new every week in the Educationem Locus.

"Did yah find a new species?" The tallest one asked enthusiastically. He'd always been the excitable type, nearly chewing off his fingernails in any important situation, and this was no exception.

The Romans had a habit, or interest, shall we say, in traveling far into the Archipelago and returning with treasures by which none of them had ever seen. The only problems we're the pesky Vikings, who unfortunately had stubbornness issues and territorial pride. They were the reason it was such a trivial task to retrieve such artifacts from Scandinavia. They were the obstacle.

In Rome, the Vikings were deeply frowned upon and viewed as nothing but savage, barbaric animals that happened to inhabit the islands. With their eye-catching horns, dragon-skin armor, and gargantuan physique, it was difficult not to compare them to the demons that they were. Pillaging villages, murdering innocent lives for their own sadistic pleasures... If a Viking should ever anchor upon Roman shores without consent, it would be put to death immediately. After all, the only good Viking was a dead Viking.

"You could say that." The prefect puffed out his chest, his gold, Spartan armor glistening in reciprocate to the torched hallway. "Gather 'round, my young soldiers and knowledge-seekers," he instructed, patiently waiting for their chatter to die down. When everyone was silent, he clasped his banded hands together and grinned.

"You are all a very lucky bunch today," he declared. "Our sailors and merchants, as you know, have managed to sail past the outer isles with no attacks, and have captured a very interesting specimen. A Viking. And you," he happily enunciated, "are the first to have a look-see."

The youngest Spartan raised his eyebrows in slight discouragement. "Just a Viking?" He inquired in disappointment. "Forgive me for my lack of decorum, but how exactly is that an interesting specimen?" The other young Spartans nodded in disappointment at the downer. Of course, there was nothing more honorable than caging one of the savages, but for the sake of their education, they'd been expecting something a little more potent. Vikings, to most, were all the same.

The prefect grinned. "Not just any Viking, but an alpha Viking."

At this, the children gasped and stared at each other. This was different. "An alpha?" The strongest soldier trainee inquired, his thick eyebrows furrowed together. "How did ja manage to capture such a beast?"

"Oh, it wasn't easy," the prefect informed them proudly. "Hairy Hooligans are especially stubborn, territorial, and very difficult to catch."

The soldier paled and glared at the door, his body tensing. "It's from the Berkian tribe?"

"Yes. Two, to be precise. They belong to the a small tribe, a few degrees north. Their isle, Berk, from what I've heard, is even harder to anchor at, due to all the sea stacks and such. So capturing them was a difficult process, but now that we have them, we can study them further. With that being said..." he pushed open the door, "Enter."

The young Romans scrambled in, the tallest shoving past to get a glimpse of what was displayed for all to see.

It was a small room and every Spartan just barely managed to squeeze in. In said room sat a large cage with hulking metal bars that no amount of chiseling could break through. The youngest Roman leaned in to get a closer look amongst his taller counterparts.

Sitting hunched in the dark corner was a huge, burly Viking with a magnificent scarlet, braided beard. Magnificent horns stuck out from either side of his head, gave him a striking appearance, and his emerald eyes flickered upward to meet the teenagers' gaping ones.

"Whoa," the tallest boy breathed, placing a small hand on the rusty bar of the cage. "That's the Viking? He's a lot bigger than I thought he'd be."

"We managed to capture this one a few days ago," the prefect smiled, gesturing toward the gargantuan being that hunched over. "The leader of his population."

"Wow! The leader? You mean to tell me that he's the King of the Vikings?" The youngest boy asked in disbelief, keeping a safe distance from the bars. The eldest rolled his eyes.

The prefect laughed. "No, he isn't a King. The Vikings have no king, remember? He's a Chief. A chief that only has the dictatorship over one tribe. There are many, many other tribes. The Berserkers, Bob-Burglars, the Meatheads, the Peaceables, the Visithugs, Frenetics, the Outcasts-"

"How come he's not moving?" The smallest girl interrupted in confusion, her large chocolate irises gazing upon the creature within the cage in an almost frightful manner. "Most would be trying to escape, right?"

The youngest boy snorted. "It's not like he's going anywhere anyways... Heh, r-right?"

The medium-sized Spartan let out a hearty laugh. "Vikings are smarter than you think," he declared with a smile. "I believe that with our subject here, we should collect much research on the Vikings, and what their niche-"

"Wait! Where's the other one?" The tallest boy cried, back away from the cage. The Viking within only blinked. "You said you captured two, right? There's only one in there!"

The Roman prefect laughed once more and tilted his head toward the hunched Viking. "Have a closer look, my boy."

The young Spartan obeyed and along with his friends, peered closer into the cage. The creature glared at them and huffed, drawing his large knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around something. They all stepped closer to the bars but saw nothing until the lump in the Viking's lap shifted and an auburn head with big eyes popped up to peek over the larger one's arm. Everyone stilled. He had a shockingly small stature. Auburn bangs curtained his pale, freckled face, which brought out the sharp emerald of his eyes. He was clad in a green tunic, tan belt, and a furry brown vest was draped over his scrawny shoulders. The only thing about the boy's physique that would fit an intimidating category were his horns. Large, handsome ones that were much like his father's, poking out beneath his hair just above his ears and curving upward to create an almost demon-like appearance. They almost seemed too big in proportion to the rest of his lithe little form.

The eldest boy smirked a little at the sight of them, picturing how nice they would look as a collector's item.

The eldest girl sucked in a breath and felt something twinge in her chest. "It's... It's just so young." The young Viking locked eyes with her before moving to the next, observing them nervously yet curiously. "He doesn't look anything like the..." She trailed off.

 _"Ikke flytte en muskel!"_

The older Viking barked something in the language that only his kind could understand, and the young male's head quickly disappeared behind his thick arms. His deep, guttural voice caused everyone in the room to jump.

 _"Beklager,"_ they could hear the boy mumble in a surprisingly nasally humane voice, and he tucked his head out of sight. _"Jeg tror ikke de kommer til å skade meg."_

"Sh!"

The tallest boy was in awe. "Is that it's...child?"

The prefect nodded. "Yes, indeed. That's what made the capture far easier." He laughed and shook his head. "All we needed to do was lure the Chief in with his son, and voilà! We have ourselves subjects. But they are going to be difficult to tame."

"Tame? He looks pretty subdued already," the tallest Spartan pointed out, gesturing toward the father.

The prefect chuckled. "Think again." He took his sheath and poked it through the cage bars, effectively nudging the large Viking, who did nothing more than twitch irritably and tighten his grip around the child. "And now..."

The sheath went back in, this time aiming for the small, skinny bundle in the Viking's lap. It never even brushed against the child's skin, for the father moved with surprising speed. And with his anger and strength, he broke the sheath into four little pieces before the group of Romans could even blink.

 _"Tror ikke du tør røre min sønn!"_ The Viking roared, causing the auburn-haired male in his lap to bury his face into his beard.

 _"Don't you dare touch my son!"_

 _"Skitten romerne!"_ His booming, gruff voice echoed harshly off the walls. The young Spartans all yelped and jumped backwards, while the prefect hardly even flinched.

 _"Filthy Romans!"_

"Oh, I guess I was wrong," the tallest Spartan mumbled, backing away from the cage. "Kinda protective..."

"That's an understatement," the prefect sighed. "He's a tricky subject. We need to gain the trust of the elder," he instructed. "If we can do that, he will let us study the young one."

The eldest girl gently placed her callused hand on the metal bar and whispered, "Hello," with a gentle smile adorning her face. She sympathized the boy in the cage.

The Vikings, Chief Stoick and his son and heir, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third, stayed as stationary as they could, though, the younger Viking was curious about the other teens.

"Beasts," his father cursed angrily. He never took kindly to gawkers, and being trapped in a cage like some sort of show animal was no exception. "And to think that the dragons were pests; these Romans have taken the yak!"

The eldest girl looked about twenty to Hiccup. She had leaned forward and whispered something that he couldn't pick up on because of her low volume. But since his grandfather, Old Wrinkly had taught him a bit of Latin, he could catch a few words here and there.

 _"Nolite timere,"_ she spoke soothingly, and Hiccup twitched. She didn't...sound like a monster. _"Nos non laedere."_

 _"Don't be afraid. We are not going to hurt you."_

"Don't be too sure about that," the eldest boy snorted.

Hiccup peeked out over his father's arm and spoke before he could do anything about it. _"Tibi gratias agimus quod in complexionem inferamus."_

"Thank you, for summing that up."

The prefect gasped and gripped the bars of the cage, causing everyone to tense. "He can speak Latin?"

The father's eyes widened and he gave the boy a rough shake, whispering to him furiously. _"Snakker ikke et ord!"_

"Don't speak another word!"

"Oh, this-this fixes everything!" The prefect happily cried. "Yes!" He looked to the boy, ignoring the death stare of the older Viking. "Little Viking, are you fluent in Latin?"

 _"Fluent in Latin es? Parum Viking?"_

Hiccup winced as his father mushed his face into his chest, grabbed a part of the broken sheath, and chucked it at the prefect's awaiting face. "Don't answer his questions," Stoick growled as the Roman yelped and jumped back. "Gods only know what these Spartans are planning to do with us. Stay quiet."

"To be fair," came Hiccup's annoyed muffled reply, "I don't think communicating with them would be as bad as throwing debris at their faces."

The prefect quickly recovered and asked again. " _Parum Viking_?"

Hiccup gulped.

...

 **Author's Note: *sigh* Yes. I used Google Translate. Forgive me to confess.**

 **Fanrats: BOOOOOOOOOOO!**

 **Oh, COME ON! D: Ugh... Well, time to work on Mishap by Mug. But before I do, I just want to tell everyone that in this story, Vikings have horns. Like, real ones sticking out of there heads. To get a proper visual, just imagine their helmets with the horns on them...but without the helmet part. There. That ought to do it.**


	2. Separation Anxiety

**Author's Note: ...Well... I AM BACK, FANRATS! :D**

 **But SHHHHHH! It's SECRET! ;)**

 **As a side note, I'd like to quickly elucidate the mythology of Vikings pertaining to this world. The Vikings are pretty feral, albeit they have the aptitude to function in a standard, medieval society. Their interaction fluctuates, but they can fluently communicate with humane phrasing and diction, but still slip into an instinctive state every once in awhile and use a series a clicks, growls, groans, shrill yips, cries, and other animalistic sounds. Their mating rituals are very similar to that of "Female challenges male. Male chases female. Male pins female-blardee blardee blah".**

 **That's another story.** ** _Hiccstrid_** ***wink wink***

 **These Vikings are built materially the same as a moderate human, but what sets them apart from the rest are the horns that stick out from either side of their head. These equivocate the horns on the helmets in the movie. So that would mean that Snotlout's horns are curved, Fishlegs's are smaller, Tuffnut and Ruffnut have double the trouble, and Astrid has petite horns herself. Both Stoick and Hiccup have pretty wicked horns, based on their helmets in the film. And that is what most Romans seek after.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the "How To Train Your Dragon" franchise. Darn it all...**

 **Remember, there is no cursing in my world. Please enjoy!**

...

 **Chapter Two:** ** _Separation Anxiety_**

Hiccup could easily recall the devastating day his village was severely besieged. The day that nobody had bargained for. Not even Gothi, the village elder who allegedly discerned and foresaw every conjecture. But who could have genuinely perceived the misfortune yet to come?

The Roman ships had tactically egressed from a foggy spell that the cold day had kindled. Much like a whisper that the Berkians were unaccustomed to, (having gotten used to the alarm of shrieking, raiding dragons) they easily sliced through the ocean currents undetected (a facile victory for the opposition).

Hiccup had been insouciantly gallivanting along the edge of the large cliff where the docks were stationed below. He was on break, reminiscing and such before he would have to return to the Forge to smith. He couldn't have foreseen the horror that was about to befall his clutch, even when he overheard the alarm.

Said alarm was a loud, guttural blare that blasted from a large horn atop a nearby lookout that scoured the vastness of the ocean. The Vikings of Berk immediately stopped what they were doing as the warning echoed throughout their village.

"ROMANS!" Somebody bellowed. From there, chaos ensued.

Hiccup soon wasn't the only spectator who stood frozen atop the edge of the cliff. Other younglings who'd been play-wrestling in the plaza arrived to stand beside him, whispering and chattering amongst themselves. Their curiosity habitually got the better of them in a time of impending crisis.

Hiccup didn't panic incipiently. After all, many ships had passed through this part of the Barbaric Archipelago before; what made this time so different? He got his answer when the ships drew ever nearer so he could see their flags quite clearly. And that's when he realized...these were no vessels of any recognizable Viking tribe he knew of.

"Oh, no. No... No!" He gasped, his form going rigid with brewing abhorrence. "Thor, it's the Spartans!" The neighboring children gasped and stared at each other with appalled gazes.

Hiccup was right!

The sleek vessels belonged to an all-mighty empire of Rome, the primary adversary of all things Norse, and pretty much the rest of the world that didn't want to bow down to such a tyrannical power.

Hiccup swallowed, blanching heavily as he began to back away. His throat went dry, and his usually sharp, clever mind drew a blank.

What to do? What to _do_?

Should he run for the hills and hunker down in the caves? That's what his father would want him to do rather than fight with the rest of the population, especially when he was incapable of properly handling a weapon. Instinctual survival skills churned through his stricken mind and he suddenly had the urge to bunker down and hide his face. What were those Romans doing? What did they want?! Had they come for riches? Horns? ...Treaties? No... That was impossible.

The other children sensed his imminent fear and quickly disbanded, racing to their sires and dams, desperate to take refuge under the protected arms of their fearless parents. The situation was precipitating trepidation within them all.

Hiccup faintly backed away from the cliff's edge and tore his stare away from the approaching fleet to watch as the young ones clamored to get to their parents. Out of fear, he personally would have done the same. However, his father was nowhere to be found.

The young male raced through the plaza, shouting the Chief's name as loudly as he could, but his nasally voice was easily drowned out by the elders preparing themselves for a battle that was sure to transpire. The metal clang of bashing weapons, thundering commands, the stomping of boots... They had seen the ships as well, and now there was no turning back.

Frazzled and anxious, Hiccup made several circles around the same area before letting out an instinctual wail, one that would usually be emitted by young toddlers begging for their parents' protection. He was embarrassed, but death, he realized, wasn't worth it.

"They're HERE!" He heard a soldier shout, which caused the noise around him to deafen. As he was trying to focus on a vocal point, he was curtly shoved aside by those going into battle, which caused him to stumble and trip onto the hard, dirty ground. His vision spasmmed for a moment as his head smacked against the earth. When said vision refocused, he gasped, now at eye-level with the stomping boots. He panted and curled in on himself, clutching tightly at the dry tufts of grass and tearing them from the dirt.

From what he could make out in the foggy distance there was a flash of shiny gold armor that only a fearsome Roman soldier could attire.

So it was true... They were being invaded.

As if the dragons were enough of a blunder; now they had to deal with these people! The intimidating sight caused a sharp layer of anxiety to shoot up his spine and span throughout the rest of his lithe being. Those helmets...an unknown material stuck out from the top in a sort of arch-adorned with a ruddy red color that burned fiercely against the grey horizon. For a Viking, a terrible sight to see.

Heart pounding and stomach churning, Hiccup shakily got to his feet and watched in horror as the battle began. The guttural shouts increased in volume, especially as the first spill of blood splattered against the ground and the body count began to tick. It took all of Hiccup's willpower in his fuzzy state to force his feet to cooperate and start sprinting in the opposite direction of the fight-toward the woods.

But to his amazement, a prodigious number of Spartans materialized from the brush, carrying with them metallic spears from the likes of which he had never seen. The boy came to an abrupt halt, shocked, and took off in a different direction.

"H-How'd they manage to-?" He gasped. Was it possible that they had overtaken the bay as well? If they had, that meant that Berk was helplessly surrounded.

A spear whizzed by his face and struck the ground to his left. Another grazed his cheek and drew blood, causing his heart to pound. That was _too close_.

"DAD!" Hiccup screamed. His cries drew the attention of many and a few moments later, a soldier became hot on his tail.

He ran. Oh, how he _ran_. Gobber, the chief's beta, would have been mighty proud. He ducked, he weaved, and he scrambled precariously through the mass of fighting enemies without stopping once. At one point, he snagged himself on the point of someone's sword, but he carried on nonetheless.

But regardless of how much he tried to derail the young soldier and leave him off-course, he couldn't. In fact, the Roman looked just as determined to catch _him_ as he was to get away. He carried on for several more minuets, pumping his arms, trying to get as far away from the clashing groups as possible, before realizing his fatal mistake.

The soldier, he discovered, was driving him away from the other Vikings on _purpose_. He was being separated from his stronger counterparts so that he would be easier to catch. This was very similar to how wolves hunted baby yaks: they would drive the young calf away from its peers so that it vulnerable in its solitude.

Therefore, it wasn't long before the aforementioned soldier caught up with the terrified youngling. "N-NO!" Hiccup gasped, sweat trickling down his pink face as he jolted back. Had to get away. Had to get away. Had to get away!

"H-HELP! He-AGGGHHHHH!"

He screamed. He screamed with all his might. What else could he do whilst plummeting down a sixty-foot drop into the churning ocean? During the course of his failed escape, the young Viking had managed to make it to the cliff's edge and run alongside it. He was hoping that the Spartan's weight would cause part of the cliff's edge to dislodge and send the invader to his doom.

Unfortunately, not all went according to plan.

He landed with a SPLAT-face down, which knocked him unconscious for a mere couple of seconds before he collected his resolve. The harsh sting brought him back to his senses. The strong current quickly dragged the poor boy out and no amount of his struggling could maneuver himself to the shore...not that it seemed favorable at the moment.

Treading through water, Hiccup managed to catch a few glimpses of his home, now bemused in smoke and the flickering flames of fire before his head went under again. Roman soldiers scuttled over the hilltops like a swarm of ants racing to a discarded crabcake. He felt sick to his stomach, the bile creeping up toward his throat as the screams of the wounded reached his ears.

He did not know what to do…other than stay alive.

But as time passed, it got more and more problematic to keep afloat. His limbs were tiring and the fuel of adrenaline was finally wearing thin after a few hours of maintaining an upright position to keep his head out of the water.

His clothes: tunic, belt, leggings, and bear-fur vest, did nothing but weigh him down as they absorbed the salty liquid around him. But he didn't want to desert them just yet. In its place, he discarded his boots and leggings, hopeful that the scarcity of excess weight would benefit him to stay afloat.

By that point in time, the current had swept him out, miles from the shore. Berk was becoming smaller and smaller as the void between he and the island amplified. Soon, he became immersed in rougher waters that encircled the nearby sea-sacks.

Wave after merciless wave thrust him deeper into the water, forcing him to struggle and drain his energy even more so. It wasn't long before he striving just to keep his head above the water. If he could at least do that, then he could breathe. But his luck was diminishing faster than he could make it to shore.

"..."

...

...

The next thing Hiccup could actually comprehend through his foggy mind was a mesh texture flung over his limp form and immediately entangling him. Hiccup sucked in lungful's of air as something tugged against the mesh and brought him out of the freezing cold salt water.

Dazed, his wet, frozen fingers instinctively clutched the mesh to keep from hanging himself by the horns, for they too were entangled.

One minute he was in midair, the next he was flopping onto the wooden deck of an unknown vessel, sopping wet, blue in the face, coughing, and writhing. Although he was discomforted, he preferred anything to the ocean by this point. It took quite a while for him to catch his breath, and even longer for the ringing in his waterlogged ears to cease. When it did, he wearily lifted his head to peer out past the crisscross-mesh net to absorb his surroundings.

Expecting the worst, Hiccup wasn't surprised to find himself staring into the many faces of Roman soldiers, a few hundred at least upon this large vessel. He feels their eyes burning holes into him, so he curled up into a little ball, clutching his bare knees and squirming softly, trying to make himself seem as small as possible. It was a defense mechanism, as well as a small trick, for word was that on the market, customers avoided purchasing weak little Vikings for whatever purpose they were meant to serve.

 _"Aurelio!"_ A combatant shouted, beckoning with a spear to his counterparts, which caused the young male to visibly flinch. About three other soldiers advanced, unsheathing their swords.

Swamped by dread, it took Hiccup a millennium of courage to force himself to uncurl his protective shell and let out a deafening cry, which caused those nearest to jolt at the abruptness and sheer volume of his lament. Hiccup drew back instantly when the soldiers hissed at his expense, and he prayed to Odin that his sire would somehow overhear his sound of distress and come to the rescue.

Unsurprisingly, nothing of the sort transpired, though, some militias snickered at the outburst. _"Huic_ _similis sit amet_ _,"_ a few of them chuckled. _"Regii sanguinis extra significat mercedem pro nobis."_

One of them sneered demeaningly. To draw a response from the shivering creature, he carelessly thrust his sword forward to lightly poke him on the bony hip.

Hiccup sucked in a breath of surprise and scrambled back, ignoring the splintering wood digging into his bare legs and feet. He listening hard as the militias laughed. From what he could pick up on what they were saying, he was sure they were discussing his state of dress, and the word "price".

That terrified him.

He knew quite well that Vikings were hunted mostly for their striking horns. At least, that's what his father had told him. Is that what they were going to do with him now? Hold him down and hack off his horns with an axe to mount on a wall?!

A large soldier dressed in finer armor than the rest, a captain or general most likely, stepped forward with his hand out, studying the little Viking quizzically.

"Titchy," he dismissively concluded in Latin, "but the horns may fetch a good price on the _mercatus_." He rubbed his chiseled chin thoughtfully, watching the poor creature before him shake and sputter. "Hmmm..." After taking a good look at the soaked bear-fur vest, his eyes widened.

He stood up and raised his arms. "Attention!" He shouted. "This Viking before us is one of royal descent!" The rise of murmurs in the crowd escalated considerably along with the number of eyes trained on the small, unknowing creature. "For that," he affirmed, "it is not to be sold for its horns alone."

"What?" The soldiers whispered in confusion, but then it dawned on them. "Sir, we aren't really selling him to the _Educationem Locus_ , are we?" One of them timidly inquired, picking absently at the golden back on his wrist.

" _You_ aren't," the General smirked. "I am."

The braver of the Spartans dared to groan and nudge each other in protest of this decision. Not only had they been ready for the loot; they had _so_ been looking forward to carving the horns off of that head.

"Now, wait just a minute," another legionnaire hotly inquired. "With all due respect, how do you know for sure that this little _tick_ is the heir to the Hooligans? I mean, look at him!" Hiccup cast his head down self-consciously. He wasn't exactly sure what they were specifically saying about him, but it wasn't hard to figure out.

The general rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Well, I'll say it again since you lack the smarts." The legionnaire flushed as his colleagues smirked. "Snadge gave us specific descriptions: skinny and/or malnourished, curved and symmetric horns, brown hair, simple attire, and it seems to _me_ —I don't know about _you_ , Soldier—but the little _tick_ seems to match those attributes well enough."

There was a short silence.

"Brilliant," the soldier huffed. "All that work, ALL those injuries for one measly little _barbarous_...and you're telling me that we can't even hack off some appendages?" The others nodded, murmuring with dissent. "Can we at least keep the Alpha for sparring trainees? Might come in handy for the future; you never know."

Hiccup flinched again, dread consuming him. "Alpha?" He whispered. That sounded awfully familiar.

The general took another look at the shaking mess that was Hiccup. "The Alpha goes to the _Educationem Locus_ with his offspring," he firmly reminded them. "Whatever faction the prefects place him in is complete up to them: breeding, slavery, education... And his horns stay put," he added to his soldiers' distaste.

"You heard me, men. The price decreases if the horns aren't there. Because he'd be _dead_ if they weren't." When they tried to protest, he held up his hand for silence. "That's my final say. Now do me a favor and settle him in the brig before he does something he may regret."

"…"

"...Whatever y' say, _boce_ ," grumbled a different soldier. He stepped forward with a lasso in hand and made sure to entrap the horns protruding from either side of the Viking's head. Hiccup yelped shrilly at the unfamiliar contact grazing his horns and jerked away, only to be yanked back and pinned to the ground by a studded sandal digging into his cheek.

"This 'un right 'ere..." The soldier muttered. "Bait, is it?" He addressed the unaddressed, motioning to the tiny Viking. "For its Alpha?"

The smirk on the General's face couldn't be crueler. "Indeed."

...

Hiccup awoke with a soft gasp and froze in place. He realized that his hands were clasped and sweat dotted his forehead.

"...Dad...?" No response.

Recollecting his whereabouts, a swift jolt of alarm coursed through his being. It took a moment for him to remember that the so-called captivity was simply his protective father. Realizing this, he nestled back into the safe grip of his sire's arms, a bit shaken to be drifting back to sleep just yet.

An hour passed...

Hiccup sighed groggily, feasted his cheek against the crook of his father's arm, and shifted his gaze to the single barred window of the room. The moonlight spilt through the narrow opening and shone against the shiny metal bars of their cage. It was still late into the night, so he still had a few more hours of rest before the prefect arrived.

...He missed his clutch, he realized sadly. Gobber. The forge. His room. Notebook and charcoal utensils. His fellow teenage counterparts. The female he was trying to court. He snorted. Key word: **trying**. She took seldom interest in anyone, really. Heck, he even missed his cousin, who sparred and locked horns with him on a regular basis to challenge his courting semesters with the girl.

With a lethargic yawn, Hiccup snuggled back into the warmth, cautious to not let his horns poke anything.

Roused by the boy's shuffling, Stoick awoke with a slight tremor and observed him with unease. "Are yeh alright, son?" He whispered, leaning over the male's head to preen his auburn locks.

Hiccup marshaled a small grin and leaned into the rare, affectionate touch. "Peachy," he answered nonchalantly. "A bit uh, warmer here in Sinister, isn't it? Might wanna loosen your grip a little."

Stoick sighed crossly in the middle of his grooming. "Ah'm sorry," he apologized. "Ah'd let yeh go, but-"

"Romans," Hiccup finished for him. "I know."

"If only Ah knew what they wanted weth us. We could strategize our way through their plans and make an escape from this beastly place."

Hiccup rolled his emerald eyes at this. "Well, I was _going_ to ask the toga-guy in charge before you pummeled him in the face, but what else is new?" It was more of a statement than a question.

Stoick gave a small chuff of discontent. "Never mind," He gruffly dismissed. "We'll talk about it in th' morning. We need our strength. Get as comfortable as yeh can and try t' sleep."

"Key word: try," Hiccup mumbled, tugging his discarded vest over his face as a makeshift covering. Despite his ill-fitting resting area, he fell asleep some time into the early morning. It seemed like not even a few minutes passed before he awoke to the sound of a jovial voice echoing through the small room.

 _"Bonum mane omnibus!"_ It was the prefect, strolling casually through the wooden door with a metal shield in hand. Probably as a precaution for any more flying debris. Stoick smirked at that, but it fell when he remembered his inability to translate. And he hated to be left in the dark.

"What did he say?" The Viking whispered to his son. Hiccup blinked and gave him a look, to which Stoick glowered in response. "Just tell me," he ordered.

"When in Rome, do as the Romans do," Hiccup reminded him.

Stoick squinted. "This isn't Rome. This is a stupid fortress in the middle of nowhere."

Hiccup sighed. Was it ever easy? "Nothing important," he translated. "He just wished us a good morning." Stoick's expression fell and he groaned.

"New rule," he growled. "Only translate when it's necessary."

" _Quomodo_ _vos_ _sententia hodie_?" The prefect asked. Hiccup looked at his father expectantly and the chief couldn't resist.

"Alright," Stoick sighed. "What is he-?"

"He's asking us how we're feeling," Hiccup proudly replied. "Care to respond?"

Stoick glared, his cheeks flaring.

"Fear not. I'll do it." Hiccup acknowledged the prefect by clearing his throat and trying to maneuver his way out of Stoick's arms. "Be honest." A bit cramped, but they were alright. " _Ego belle habuit_ _,"_ he answered with a small, civil shrug. " _Gratias ago tibi."_

The prefect's face lit up like a Snoggletog tree. He could have squealed for joy. "Ooh, this is perfect!" He glowed. "Snadge has GOT to listen to this! We'll be scrollin' in no time!"

Stoick narrowed his eyes warningly at the prefect as he approached the lock of the cage with a key in hand. "Quick, ask him what he wants!"

"I'm sorry. I thought you didn't WANT me t-"

"JUST DO IT!" Came his father's frantic hiss. "Or tell him that if he gets too close, he'll be wearing mah fist on his face!"

"Okay, okay. Um... Definitely don't want _that_ to happen..." Hiccup wracked his brain for the proper translation as the prefect touched the lock. " _Te habe me excusatum_ _?"_

The prefect thankfully paused. " _Quid est?"_ He asked inquisitively.

"Um..." Hiccup stole a glance at his father, who nodded. " _Meus... Um... Part meus_..."

"Ask him why he has kept us in a cage and what he plans to do with us in the future."

"Specific," Hiccup sarcastically noted, but he complied for the sake of his father's worrisome state. "... _Pater velim scire-um, q-_ _quid cogites in cavea servastis_ _ad..._ _ad nos nobiscum_ _."_ Thor, this was more difficult than he thought. Luckily, the prefect didn't seem to mind all that much.

"Ah!" The man grinned excitedly, making sure to accentuate his dialect properly when he answered. " _Pater_ _ut mittas eum in consilium quod est propositum ut prudentiam doceant futura aspergine pugnare adversus Lacedaemonios malesuada. Et tu puer,_ _"_ his smile widened, _"_ _ego ipse cogitans signando te ut ostendam tibi vivendi rationem fetura_ _."_

Stoick watched his son's face for the entirety of the answer and noticed him grow paler and paler until at the very end, he seemed to have shrunk in his arms and his face was as white as snow.

"I'm almost frightened to know what he said," Stoick whispered. "Is he-? Are they goin' to-?

"He...H-He said he wanted to pit you for future Spartan trainees..." Hiccup stuttered, curling in on himself. "And as for me," Hiccup gulped, "he...he said he personally wanted me in the...the..."

"Th' what?" Stoick demanded, dreading the worst. "Out with it, lad!"

Hiccup gulped, a strange expression overtaking his pale complexion. "...The breeding program?"

"..."

"...The WHAT?!" Stoick whipped his head around as four guards quickly entered the room. It was evident that they were there to protect the prefect as he opened the cage door. "What is that-? What for?!" Stoick spluttered. " _Why_?!"

"How-How should I know?!" Hiccup cried out in his panicked state. "So...So I guess they want me to have lots of _babies_?" Stoick gawked.

"Whatever for?!"

"I dunno!" The younger male whimpered. "I couldn't understand ALL of it! I'm not a walking pamphlet for crying out loud!"

As the guards advanced, spears at the ready, Stoick rushed to stand before his son, growling softly through his bared teeth. He was not going to let them subject his young like this. "Begone," he shouted. "Off weth the lot of ye!"

"Dad, they can't understand a word you're saying," Hiccup groaned, but gratefully took refuge behind his father's vast form.

Stoick paid no attention to him. "Oh, they'll get the idea one way or another," he growled. "Nothing can accentuate communication like _body language_. For example..." Stoick flourished one of his meaty fists as one particularly brave guard advanced. "I said BE OFF!" He shouted, smacking away a spear that grazed his chest. "BE OFF WETH THE LOT O' YEH!"-

The soldiers, who were equally as strong and bulky as the Alpha Viking, persisted nonetheless. What transpired after that was a harsh but brief battle that eventually subdued an angry Stoick with a significant amount of chains and due to his lack of weaponry of any kind. The prefect took advantage of the moment by dashing forward to snatch the younger Viking from behind the elder.

Hiccup panicked as the foreign hands grazed his horns and jerked him out of the cage. At that moment in a state of complete horror, he unleashed a primal cry of his species that echoed around the room, begging for his sire's protection that he knew couldn't be given. He thrashed, he kicked, and he swung his bony fists as a pair of arms wrapped around his waist and hauled him from the room.

"No! Wait! STOP!"

Stoick struggled, internally screaming as the prefect dragged his shrieking, only offspring from the room. But he didn't need to scream for Hiccup to know that his father was downright terrified. The expression on his face was proof enough.

"D-DAD!" Came the heart-wrenching cry before it was muffled, either by a hand or a gag.

The soldiers left the stricken Viking as soon as the younger one was absent. As soon as their work was done, they shut the cage door and locked it. Stoick leapt up and gripped the iron bars, sneering and growling at the soldiers, who couldn't help but indignantly jab him one final time with their spears before vacating the premises.

Once they were gone, he was alone, his heart hammering with augmenting nervousness and horror once the implication settled. They stole his young. They STOLE him!

Stoick let out a roar of fury before butting his head against the bars. He instantly regretted it, for his large horns wedged in between said bars and stuck. "Thor..."

...

Hiccup whimpered as the gag that the prefect had used to silence his cries was torn from his mouth and carelessly tossed to the side. He had been brought to another room not far from the former that held him captive, a smaller one and not an accessory in sight, and placed upon a stone surface. Before him stood two men.

The proximity gave him a small ray of hope that maybe he could run back to his father. But that hope was soon squandered, because not even a moment later, a rusty metal clasp was clamped around his lithe neck. The clasp itself was attached to thick links of chain that the prefect firmly held on the end. It was rusty and the rough material bit at his neck. He whined, pawing at it miserably, knowing that he couldn't break free even if he tried.

 _"W-What're you gonna do to me?"_ He whispered in Latin, cowering as the Spartan who clamped the seal around his throat cuffed him on the back of the head. The prefect grinned, but instead of answering Hiccup, he spoke to the other man.

"See? What did I tell you?" He pronounced excitedly, oblivious to Hiccup's miserable state. The larger Spartan's eyes flickered skeptically over the small creature, who shifted away as far as he could. "I told you Vikings were capable of being bilingual!"

"You did," the man gruffly replied. "Which means you have to be careful discussing things around him. Don't want him to discover things that he shouldn't."

The prefect frowned at that. "Erm... Yes! Quite right, Snadge," he agreed. Hiccup blinked and dared to glance up. So this was Snadge? A beastly male to an extreme degree, he loomed overhead with a size that could challenge Stoick the Vast himself.

"Besides that, a small talent with translation doesn't exclude the fact that this creature here is feral, wild, and savage," Snadge enunciated, lightly jabbing the young one's head. "Chain him to the floor when you're eating dinner. Wouldn't want him to go off on your family."

Hiccup's brows furrowed. Family? Um... Weren't they submitting him to some sort of program? ...Or were they just going to chop off his horns?

"I-...Of course not," the prefect nodded, and took Hiccup by the chain. "I'll make sure that he's secure."

"And a note of advice: don't succumb to carelessness around those horns of his!" Snadge reminded him. "My young brother got far too close to a Bob-Burglar and got his left eye taken out!"

The prefect bit his lip but tried to smile. "I don't think that'll be an issue with this one. The invaders that sold him to us told me that he was very submissive. Harmless, even!"

Snadge shook his head. "Don't let that fool you," he muttered sourly. "I can bet that this _barbarous_ has killed many a creature."

Hiccup smirked at that and almost laughed in spite of himself. He? A killer? Pshaw. The only thing he had come close to killing in his lifetime was a spider. That, and a salmon. Despite the annoyance of always having to sleep on his back or his stomach, he was proud that his horns drew that sort of response from his enemies. It was something that every Viking, no matter what tribe he or she came from, shared. Unfortunately, his little grin did not go unnoticed.

Snadge, who had always been protective of his younger brother and had been devastated by the accident, dashed forward and loomed over the Viking. He bared his teeth to unleash a hideous snarl. "How dare you _laugh_?" The Roman barked, spittle expelling from his mouth. "Disgraceful little **_barbarian_** , how _dare_ you?!"

Terrified, Hiccup shrunk into protective mode and immediately began to groom himself. It was a way of illustrating to stronger, aggressive Vikings that he could not protect himself against and that he was as harmless as a newborn. It was the smart thing to do, knowing that his adversary had the upper hand.

"If it were up to me," Snadge hissed, "you'd be up on the chopping block this instant, upside down, two bloody holes on each side of your head with your eyes gorged out!"

"Em...Duly noted," the prefect sighed, gently tugging the shaken Viking away. He seemed virtually unaffected by the other man's outburst, as though he'd witnessed that behavior before. Snadge quickly recovered from said outburst and cleared his throat awkwardly. "I'll make sure that he's safely bound," the prefect promised. "What happened to your brother won't happen to anyone on my watch. Good _bye_."

"Good riddance," Snadge curtly responded, glaring distastefully at the retreating Viking, who shivered and hunched over submissively. "Jupiter, what a disgusting little _worm,_ " he muttered disgustedly. "Uncultured brutish _swine_."

It was a bit awkward along the way to wherever they were gong, but luckily, Hiccup had to do little of the speaking. "You'll have to excuse Snadge," the prefect sighed. "He's got a mighty few opinions about your kind and none of 'em are good-especially after what's happened to his brother," he admitted. "Disappointing, actually. We have the technology and markets in order to learn more about Vikings. If only your horns weren't as valuable on the market as they are now..."

Hiccup shuddered. That's what he was afraid of. But he could sort of understand where the prefect was coming from in terms of close-minded people. For the next few minutes, they trekked through the halls and thanks to the prefect it was anything but silent.

"You've met my children already," the man rambled. "They were studying you yesterday and I must admit that most of them have taken a liking to you and your father already! Such wonderful kids they are! Most of 'em aren't my own; adopted, some of them-places in Fort Sinister aren't as quaint as you might think-but I love them all the same."

Hiccup, traumatized by the separation from his father and Snadge's outburst, remained quiet and content, allowing the chatty man to drag him by the chains. Through halls they went, only to exit the Educationem Locus and onto the platform of a heavily guarded gigantic wall that surrounded Fort Sinister.

Hiccup's eyes widened impossibly as they absorbed the view.

First Sinister was...huge! Ginormous, in fact! The stories surrounding this place could not capture the beauty and vastness of it all. It's stone walls peppered with battle scars stretched for what he was sure were miles and miles that lapped in a perfect circle, which was the entirety of the island.

There were seldom mountains or hills, but the beautiful pillars towering above their heads made up for that. Hiccup had to crane his head in order to catch even a glimpse of the top of the towers. Beautiful. The colorful flags, the hot-air balloons floating calmly about, the field and fields lush with vegetation. What he guessed was the town-square far below them could only be reached by a series of steps that stretched diagonally from where they were standing, all the way to the bottom. It actually resembled the pathway leading down from the cliff to the docks at his home, albeit taller and steeper.

"Wow," Hiccup whispered softly, absorbing as much as he could from this surprisingly beautiful scene. The prefect grinned knowingly and nudged the young male toward the millennium of stone steps, which caused him to snap out of his aesthetic trance. He looked toward the steep descent and bit his lip. How much further away were they planning to take him away from his father?

And what else could he expect from the prefect's family he had yet to encounter once more?

...

 **Author's Note: Well, that should be it for now. I'm gonna go work on Mishap by Mug. ^^ So, even though I haven't given away the prefect's name just yet, I wanted to delve deeper into Snadge, who has a pretty harsh yet understandable prejudice toward the Vikings. His brother, who we will find out about later, has an interesting relationship with the prefect himself. And if you're wondering if this story will have a happy ending or not...? Well, it will and it won't.**

 **Until next time, my faithful Fanrats!**

 **PS: Please leave a review! You know how much your old pal Emma adores those beauties! ;)**

 **PPS: I'm also considering writing a bonus chapter of Hiccup trying to court Astrid in this world... Oh, boy...**


	3. Aranka

**Author's Note: Whew! It's been quite a while, hasn't it, Fanrats? I'm afraid that I've been rather busy with school curriculums and other stories, such as** _ **ABC's of Torture**_ **. Luckily, now that** _ **that**_ **monstrosity has been dealt with, I can finally set aside any writer's block that I have previously encountered, shove it, and invest more into this story, because darn it, I need to gratify my fans! So for those who have been inquisitive, let me tell y'all, there are many imminent twists and turns approaching. You won't be disappointed, so sit back, grab a mug of cocoa, enjoy the chapter, and stay tuned.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the How to Train Your Dragon franchise. I mean, I'm genius, but not** _ **that**_ **genius.**

 **Side note: There is no swearing in my world. Please keep your language clean in the reviews.**

 **...**

Chapter Three: _Aranka_

Hiccup sighed, tugging uselessly at the shiny shackle around his neck, wishing desperately that someone would remove it out of sympathy—or at least loosen for dastardly thing—but understanding in his heart that _this_ was Fort Sinister, and Vikings were seen as nothing but wild animals. And from what he understood, that meant he was a wild animal. And wild animals were meant to be chained. So to sum it up, he was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

The aforementioned fetter around his throat was latched onto the stone ground, a short chain linking the distance between floor and Viking. Hiccup crouched on his knees, for he could not stand; the length of the chain prohibited him; his hands folded in his lap, and his head bowed, for he was too nervous to make eye-contact with the Romans. Who knew what they would do to him if he locked gazes with the superiors?

A few feet away sat the family of the prefect, all munching on their food and chatting rowdily as if the solitary Viking did not exist.

The eldest of the group were discussing politics, the second eldest were chatting about gladiator trainees, and the youngest two, the little boy and little girl, were whispering about the introverted being just a few footsteps away. Hiccup pretended not to listen in, but he couldn't help but become spellbound by these fiends. Especially the little children, who seemed as innocent as could be to the situation at hand.

"He's so skinny!" The little girl whispered, poring over the Viking's emaciated shape. "And where's his beard?" She inquired with slight confusion. "I thought he was a boy!"

Her counterpart scoffed and stabbed at his pork, "He _is_ a boy, stupid!" He snarked. "He's just small like us. A runt of the litter, that's all."

"Oh." The little girl was rather taken aback by this edict and she solicitously looked down to her plate, loaded with pork and greens, before looking to the quiet little Viking chained to the floor. "Aw..." She gushed girlishly, "You're so cuuuute. Aren't you hungry?" She cheerfully queried, loud enough to grab his attention as well as the stares of all of her Roman foils.

Quiet.

The little boy looked rather edgy that his sister had coned the Viking's attention towards them, but he couldn't help but comment, "He can't understand you, dummy-"

"No," Hiccup softly replied in Latin, although the growing pain in his stomach was unbearable. "I am not hungry. Thank you."

More quiet.

"Oh...never mind," mumbled the little boy, staring down at his plate in embarrassment. "Sorry Aranka. I thought he was was-"

"That's okay, Julius," the petite lass smiled exultantly. "He's just shy." And with that said and done, she took the plate in her hands and jumped out of her chair. "I'm gonna make friends with him!" She declared.

The prefect's fork clattered upon his plate as his daughter approached the Viking, and he nearly choked on his pork. "Ngh!" Came his muffled shout as he waved his hands. "Doe nah gah neh hem!"

Aranka ignored her father's unintelligible protest and got to her knees to sit across from the cautious Viking. This whole time he had kept his head down, but now that one of the Romans was right in front of him, what else could he do? Now that she was before him he could see that this little girl had her hair pulled back, she was wearing a small white toga with a blue sash, and that her face was flawless, adorned with the biggest smile he'd seen since the prefect discovered he was bilingual. Not at all monstrous and not at all intimidating. In fact, she reminded him of all the young Vikings back on Berk with their big curious eyes and soft, innocent smiles.

To his surprise, she thrust her plate out, causing his mouth to water desperately as he eyed the food.

"Here!" She offered, but before he could do anything, the prefect's hands were on her shoulders and he was yanking her away from the Viking. The older siblings watched in astonishment.

"Aranka!" The eldest boy, named Giordano, hissed, chewing on his fingernails. "Are you insane? He could have gorged your eyes out with his horns!" He paused, breathless, for as introverted as he was, he'd do anything to protect his little sister. "He would do that you know," he added as a matter-of-fact, "if he feels threatened."

"Oh, let her alone," commended the elder sister with a roll of her eyes. "You have to be careful, sis. He could have hurt you."

"No he wouldn't have," Aranka retaliated, a bit dumbfounded as to why her father would let a Viking in his home but not allow his daughter within a foot of him. "Because I'm not a threat. He's harmless! You said so, yourself, Daddy!"

The prefect swallowed in spite of himself. "Yes but-" They all swiveled their heads to stare at Hiccup, who hadn't moved an inch since the whole fiasco began. "He's here so we can study him..." But once they trained in on him, he slowly began to preen himself, to try and make himself look as harmless as the little girl had claimed.

"He's so skinny!" Aranka claimed, causing Hiccup's eyes to narrow. "He needs to eat _something_ , or else he'll die!"

The prefect thought about that and eyed Hiccup warily. "Well... I suppose he-are you sure YOU are not hungry, honey?" The little girl's head nodded rapidly.

"I'm fine! That's why I want to give my food to him instead," Aranka explained. "Please? He won't hurt me."

"..." The prefect sighed and handed Aranka back her plate of food. "Alright. But be careful," he warned, drawing out a dagger from nowhere. "Go slowly and do not startle him."

She obeyed, gliding across the stone floor like a ghost, her toga fluttering, revealing her sandals. Choosing to follow her father's advice, more for his worry than her own good, she kept her voice quiet and soft, like honey, when she spoke. "Hi there," she cooed to the frightened Viking. "No need to be scared. I won't hurt you."

The squiggle on Hiccup's face somehow arranged itself into a wary smile. He let out a small, airy huff, glancing up every once and a while to make sure that the Romans wouldn't suddenly come to her defense and jump him with all those sharp weapons. If there ever was a similarity between Vikings and Spartans, it would be that they were very protective of their young.

She came closer still, padding her feet across the stone. "You look...You don't look like a monster," she observed with curiosity, drinking up his face. "You look like Giordano."

Giordano groaned and rested his chin in his palm, biting rakishly at his fingernails. "Gee. Thanks," he sarcastically remarked. "Thanks a lot." His bias was evident.

Aranka ignored her older brother and gently set the food onto the floor within Hiccup's reach before sleekly backing away. "There you go," she kindly proclaimed. "I hope you like-"

She barely had time to finish before Hiccup leapt for the greens and meat, drawing a shriek out of everyone present, and the prefect rushed forward. But there was no danger to be had. Hiccup literally wolfed down that food, every cell in his body begging him to cram handful after handful of it into his mouth until there was nothing left but an empty plate, a happy Viking, and six astonished Spartans.

"...Oh! I suppose he was hungry after all," the prefect remarked with a shaky smile, watching Hiccup sigh with relief as he finished off the pork. Aranka smiled triumphantly and advanced before anyone could stop her.

Hiccup paused. She had leaned forward, back on her knees, reaching with an outstretched hand towards his being. He blinked once, twice, entranced by her almost hypnotic calmness. Her counterparts, however, were frozen with fear.

"Nobody. Move. A. Muscle." Came the whisper of the eldest girl. "Aranka, come back now."

Hiccup glanced up at all of them, hurt. When were these Spartans going to learn that he wasn't dangerous? That Vikings were unfairly stereotyped, slumped along with tribes like the Hysterics? Well! He would show them that they were being beyond melodramatic. With a smile of his own, he beamed at the girl and connected his palm with hers.

There was a tensed, pregnant pause as everyone held their breaths. And then Aranka giggled and everyone relaxed.

"Nice to meet you!" The twelve-year-old laughed, and Hiccup let out a small chuckle of his own at her enthusiasm. "What's your name?" She asked excitedly. "Or do you not have a name? Can I name you?" She looked up to her father before Hiccup could answer. "Can I name him if he doesn't have one?"

The prefect laughed nervously, not taking his eyes off the _barabarus_. "I believe that he's got a name. Vikings need to address each other, do they not?"

Hiccup nodded slowly, shyly. "Hikke," he answered, gesturing toward himself.

"He talked again!" Exclaimed Julius with astonishment, pointing. The little girl cocked her head to the side. " _Hikke_?" She repeated, and Hiccup shrugged a shoulder. His name must have been a little lost in translation. "Vikings have weird names," she muttered, running her hand through his auburn locks of hair. Hiccup leaned into the touch. It was as if she were preening him he thought as he quickly translated her earlier statement and laughed, startling everyone. He'd been so quiet, so it was startling to hear. "I am agreeing with you," he translated with slightly broken Latin, due to his giggles. "I have weird name, my friends had-have weird names, my father-..." He stopped, and slouched. "My father," he repeated, and his brows creased.

"Oh, Gods, Dad..." He whispered in Norse, his face growing hot. How could he have forgotten? "What did they do with him?"

The Spartans watched in astonishment as the Viking began to internally panic and they erred on the side of caution. Vikings were unpredictable at the best of times and the worst of times, and as such, they all backed away, even Aranka, and then the prefect cleared his throat. "I think it's time for everyone to go to bed. _Hikke_ , was it?"

The Viking looked up, sorrow written all over his face, causing the prefect's chest to tighten for some unknown reason.

"...You are going to stay here, I'm afraid," he apologized. "Snadge will...well...never mind. Just try to get comfortable."

Hiccup eyed the stone floor and winced. Aranka watched him, with pity and thoughtfulness. Again, she moved her hands over his head to stroke his hair. "You're soft," she whispered thoughtfully, lightly running her fingernails though the locks. "And don't be scared. You'll be alright."

...

Hiccup was not going to be alright. He missed his home terribly; the fields, the jagged cliffs, the salty ocean, the lively plaza. He missed the strong, loving grasp of his father, and he would have gladly resorted to cuddling above this awful stone floor. Hiccup shifted every so often, trying his best to get comfortable but it was ineffective without his father's presence, chiefly with unprecedented thoughts lurking at the back of his mind. He cringed. His father could be dead, or worse, he could be getting tortured in a dungeon. His horns could get chopped off, or his eyes gorged out!

A cry escaped Hiccup's throat at the thought of his father in shambles and he slapped a trembling hand over his mouth.

"I want to go home," he whispered. Was that too much to ask? Was freedom too much? Oh right. Here, he wasn't the chief's son. He was a prisoner of war and nothing could change that. Hiccup had seen the size and scale of the fort. How on Earth could he and his father escape _that_? It was impossible! He curled up into a tiny ball and played with his fingers. How many other Vikings had succumbed to this awful fate, he wondered? And who would be next? Gobber? Snotlout? Astrid? Gustav? The list went on and Hiccup could feel his blood run cold.

He needed to escape. He needed to grab his father and get out before these Romans decided to do something dreadful. He sighed. At least Aranka and the prefect seemed to understand him, literally and metaphorically.

He closed his eyes.

He would figure out a way.

He had to.

Lest he wanted to...to...

Gods, just let his kind be okay.

...

Hiccup awoke to the soft chatter of Latin, reminding him of his unfortunate predicament. Exhausted, he opened his heavy eyelids to discover that he was surrounded by a group of adult Spartans, all of them unfamiliar except for the prefect. But even said prefect's presence couldn't quell the panic blooming in his chest, and he actually jumped with shock.

"Oh! Id est vigilat!" Exclaimed one of the Romans, and Hiccup was much too frazzled to translate, especially when a riot of boots stepped onto his tiny form, crushing him to the ground and rendering him immobile.

Without thinking, he let out a primal cry for his father, who of course could not respond, so he shivered. The Romans were like stone, immobile and impassive.

"Hold him down," one of them ordered, and Hiccup felt the heavy weight of a boot lift from his backside. "And chain his wrists. We're taking him to the _Educ Domum_."

Hiccup squirmed a bit more and eyed them fearfully when a young Spartan knelt down and shackled his wrist with a strong, unfamiliar metal. He gulped, searching for the prefect. When he did finally locate the man's handsome face, he grew uneasy to find it apprehensive. Not to mention that the children were nowhere to be found. That couldn't be good.

"You have no jurisdiction to take him from us," argued the prefect, his hands tightly clasped so hard that his knuckles were white. "I've paid-"

"Snadge's orders, Prefect," exclaimed a solemn young Spartan, not much older than Hiccup. Most of his face was obscured by a traditional helmet and his dark black hair was pulled back. "You have no more right over its fate than it does."

Hiccup's ears perked, but he traced the stone floor and pretended to look uninterested.

"You swear it will only be temporary?" The prefect asked slowly, irritated. "That he will return soon?"

"We can't promise anything," the teen replied with a shrug. "If it refuses to consummate, then we will have no use for it and we will return it back to you. If he does choose to consummate, then it will be a while until we can let it back into your home. Our sincerest apologies." The man didn't sound sorry at all. In fact, he was looking at Hiccup when they spoke, not at the Prefect.

Hiccup, against his better judgment, forgot to duck his head and stare at the floor. Instead, he stared right back into the disproving eyes of the dark-haired Spartan. He found himself trembling. They were the eyes of a hardened heart, which was for sure. Or, just eye, to be exact. One of them was _missing_. He shivered.

"Daddy?" Came a small voice, and Hiccup sighed with relief as a small girl came down from the stairs and joined the group. It was Aranka. "What's going on?" She asked, eyeing all of the Spartans through her sleepiness. "What're all these soldier guys doing here?"

The Prefect sucked in a breath and knelt down next to his daughter, a pit growing in his stomach. "Well they... They're taking Hiccup away, sweetie."

Hiccup was surprised to see that the little girl's jaw dropped. "What?" She shrieked, her voice echoing throughout the venue. "Why? We just bought him!"

The Viking took a start. Bought? Was that all he was to these people: some sort of a dangerous, exotic pet?

The prefect shook his head. "I know. I'm so sorry, but daddy did something wrong, and now...well, it's a grown-up issue, honey."

Hiccup paled as the officials tugged at his collar, to which he clawed at the floor, his fingernails scraping at the floor. Where on earth were they taking him next?

"Daddy, no!" The girl griped, stomping her foot with anger. She took one look at the panicked Viking and the anger melted off her face. " _Hikke_!"

"I know, Aranka. It's hard," the prefect sighed, but put on his best smile and rubbed her shoulders. "But look on the bright side. He's going to be very happy."

She sniffled, her anger draining into sadness. "H-He is?"

 _"I am?"_ Hiccup thought, confused.

"Of course," the prefect cooed, bringing his daughter into an embrace. "He's going to meet a nice girl Viking and they're going to start a family! And if you want, you can see the babies. Doesn't that sound nice?"

Aranka shook her head, but inside, a small part of her wanted to see if her new friend could actually bring baby Vikings into the world. And she would get to see them! Just imagine: tiny, big-eyed little-horned creatures running around everywhere! "I still want him to stay," she said in a small voice, and her father patted her shoulders.

"Please," Hiccup whispered in Latin to his captors. He'd rather remain where he was. "Let me stay. I promise I won't hurt anyone."

"See!" Aranka cried before tugging out of her father's grasp and running for the captive Viking. "Watch! He won't hurt me-"

" _Aranka_!" Cried the prefect, for as soon as his daughter began racing for Hiccup, one of the officials drew his sword and placed it across Hiccup's throat, causing him to hiss in pain. Aranka stopped dead in her tracks and the prefect reached for her.

"We're sorry," he apologized as the officials glared. "Aranka," he scolded, "he isn't ours anymore; you can't do things like that!"

"But Daddy-"

 _Slap._

Hiccup winced as the prefect took his daughter by the shoulders and tugged her out of the room, leaving a trail of scolding behind.

Now that they were gone, all he could do was stand as the Spartans took him by the shoulders and led him from the house. He hadn't the slightest idea of where they were going, but whatever it was, he was sure that his fate had been sealed with a stamp of doom.

...

They had him taken by the chain and lead outside to march. They walked a long distance along the streets of Fort Sinister, unprecedentedly allowing Hiccup to absorb everything that was going on about him. They…must have been in some type of plaza, for there was an array of shops all around with families and merchants bustling to and fro. He watched, entranced as he marched by a street performer, juggling what seemed to be a rare sort of vegetable, and watched as people through coins to him. To his right wafted the smell of fresh bread, and to his left were fresh fruits. He almost smiled, except that there were no Vikings present amidst the hustle and bustle. Not a single one.

"Huh," he murmured, and winced as his shackles tightened.

"Let's go," came the gruff order of the teenager Spartan, the one with his black hair pulled back. "No dilly-dallying. We need to get him to where he needs to go before Snadge decides to market his horns." He looked back to Hiccup, who'd grown pale, and he grinned. "Hey, don't look so scared! You should be happy! You're going to the Educ Domum, not the slaughterhouse! Now come on, don't drag your feet."

Hiccup glared at his adversary and scuffed at the dirt, but obeyed, trudging along and ignoring the stares burning at the back of his head. As they walked along, he became antsy, and couldn't help but ty and talk his way out of whatever they were taking him to.

"A-Ah, excuse me?" He whispered hoarsely, and then a little louder, "E-Excuse me?" The shackles around his neck and wrist tightened, but the muscular teenager at the front of the pack actually turned to face him as they continue to walk along.

"What do you want, little barbarian?" He queried, "You unhappy?" causing Hiccup to stiffen. He didn't expect the soldier to answer.

"What do you think?" He blurted out before he could think, and the teenager laughed in response.

"What do I think? What do I think?" He stopped short and gripped Hiccup by the collar. "Listen to me and listen close, _Viking_ ," he spat, his humorous demeanor changing quite quickly, causing Hiccup to take a start. "Despite what you and your kind deserve, I'm doing you a favor. So just keep your little mouth shut and go along with the ride. Trust me," he sneered, "It's the wise thing to do."

Hiccup shut his mouth and nodded hastily, and the Spartan released his collar before turning away, muttering under his breath so Hiccup could only hear bits, "Jupiter, what an annoying little…Snadge told me…so stupid…"

Hiccup kept quiet the rest of the walk with his head down until they reached a quaint white building made of a stone he did not recognize.

The young Viking would've been able to soothe his nerves a little just by the appearance of the place, but the faint sounds of screaming from within hindered that. They lead him inside and the sun disappeared. Hiccup shivered, knowing that it might be the last time he ever saw it.

Once they were indoors, Hiccup's eyes bugged with horror, the scene before him to grizzly and gruesome for him to un-see. The teenager Spartan had denied anything about a slaughterhouse, but they might as well have been in one.

All around them were miserable, disoriented young females Vikings, all chained to the walls, wailing, their calls echoing throughout the building. Their horns... "Oh Gods..." Hiccup could have thrown up and he stumbled backward. On either side of the girls' head where their horns were supposed to be were bloody patches of bandages, evidence of their harsh treatment.

One of the young Vikings lifted her head and caught sight of Hiccup before howling, "No! Please, not again!" The others picked up her cue as they caught sight of him and created a symphony of human agony. Hiccup could only guess what they meant as the teenager Spartan cracked a whip at them and bellowed at them to shut up.

He blanched at the sight before the soldier gave him a small shove in the right direction.

"Oh Gods… Oh Thor, help me," he whispered, bowing is head and they entered a small opening in the wall and began a long trek down a stairway.

They lead him down to a dungeon, lit by a single torch. Without warning, they threw him inside without a second thought and slammed the large metal door behind him. He tumbled in, scraping his callused hands upon the rough stone floor as he landed hard.

They left him, leaving him to listen to the wails up above.

Hiccup kept his head bowed and he curled up, frightened out of his mind. So this was it? Was this his fate? To live out the rest of his days in here before they decided to chop off his horns and leave him for dead? What were those female Vikings doing up there? Why were they screaming? Why were they frightened of him? Why-?

"Hicc—Hiccup?" Came a hoarse whisper, so soft that Hiccup's ears barely picked them up. But they did, and he lifted his head to whip around.

Golden hair, spiked skirt, chained by the hands and feet, so she couldn't move from her hands and knees position. Another poor female Viking, horns gone and appendages bound tight. But something about her looked oddly familiar. It was...

"Astrid?!" Hiccup gasped, and the girl shook.

"Hiccup!" She shrieked, and the male was horrified to find that she looked...broken. "Hiccup, help me!"

 **Author's Note: Aaaaaaaand that's a wrap for now! Sorry about the short chapter.**


	4. Astrid

**Author's Note: Hi again, ya lovely lads and lasses! I'm updating much quicker this time around now that I haven't any other stories to work on. Of course, school is still sucking the very life out of me, and so is my social life outside of that. Nevertheless, I hope my effort has paid off and that you enjoy this chapter. We got a lot of twists coming up, so stay tuned and grab a mug!**

...

Chapter Four: _Releasing the Beast_

Hiccup couldn't believe his eyes. _There_ was the girl he hadn't quite picked up the nerve to court right before his very being, flustered, terrified, and vulnerable. The sight of her alone now caused his brain to fuddle into the fogs of smitten, and it took a moment or two for the lad to collect his resolve. They way those Spartans had set her up, on her hands and knees, practically presentable...

"Hiccup, no!" Her high-pitched voice sifted through the notes of lusting, and he guiltily snapped back into focus. The girl was tugging effortlessly at her bindings, causing the entire rack to creak and groan during her struggle. "No!" She cried, using every ounce of strength she possessed to get away from him. "Please! Don't touch me!"

Hiccup rushed forward, and despite every cell in his body telling him to _go for it,_ he reached for the straps instead. "Why would I do that?" He soothed in a calming tone as he tried to undo the material around her wrists. Whilst he worked, he was shocked to find that her pale skin was absolutely _molten_ with harsh bruises, scrapes, cuts, and lashes, leaving no area unmarked.

"I would never, _ever_ try to hurt you, Astrid." He scrutinized the bloody patches on either side of her head and swallowed hard, his stomach undergoing a large amount of queasiness from the grotesque display. "What did they do to y-?" He stopped short. It felt inappropriate to ask questions like that, given the current situation, but the girl surprised him yet again by answering.

"They-They took me from my parents," she revealed with a hoarse croak, closing her azure eyes, shuddering softly. "A-After you and Alpha were captured, those Spartans returned. It...It was much easier to get what they wanted without a leader there to guide our warriors." Hiccup winced at the mention of his father and got the straps undone. Astrid sighed with relief as the clamp was removed and she was free to move, although her ankles were still shackled to the floor.

"Thank you," she muttered softly, gently rubbing her sore wrists and bringing her knees to her chest. "You have _no_ idea how horrible its been-being trapped down here."

"Oh...I have an idea." Smiling sympathetically, the other Viking knelt down next to the female and touched her shoulder, which sent an instinctual jolt up her spine. With a sharp cry that sounded much like a feline, she jumped away from the male. The chain attached to her ankles, however, prevented any sort of free movement, and she promptly fell to her knees, breathing hard as her bangs gathered around her petite face. Her outburst had given Hiccup quite a start, and he'd taken to backing away from the frightened female.

"Don't. Touch me," she barked, flustered and paranoid. "If you do, I-I swear to Thor I'll-I'll-!" She caught herself, and stopped with embarrassment. It wasn't like her to lash out so hasty like that.

Hiccup cowered beneath her dominating air and bowed his head, using his hands to groom himself accordingly. He needed to show her that he was harmless as he had been back on Berk. That nothing had changed. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I never meant to frighten you."

His apology caused Astrid to force out a laugh. "You? Frighten me? Pshaw..." She gawked at him from a safe distance, and it was clear to him that she was lying.

Hiccup swallowed hard. "You jumped away-"

"That's because," the fifteen-year-old interrupted with a harsh glare, "every hand that's touched me since I was brought here has beaten me," she explained, shutting her eyes and making the most sour expression as she crossed her arms. "Why do you think they bound me before you arrived?"

That didn't occur to him. "They thought that you would hurt someone?" Hiccup inquired with confusion.

Astrid laughed another semi-hysterical laugh. "Valhalla, yes. Thought I was going to rip your limbs off."

Hiccup's mouth went agape for a few moments as he absorbed this new information. "Oh. Well that's...comforting," he muttered sarcastically. "What did you, er, think I was going to do?"

Astrid gave him a strange look and her tended position finally relaxed some. "You mean you don't know?" She asked, confused.

"Oh, what do I not know?" Hiccup sighed, almost exasperated at her. "I've been in the dark ever since I came here."

"Hiccup," she said, and then blatantly, "this is a breeding program."

Hiccup stood stock still, stiffened, and then blanched. "Uh..."

Astrid snorted and crossed her arms again, hugging her midsection. "It's awful, isn't it?"

"I uh, wasn't aware you spoke Latin," he remarked curiously, impressed.

" _That_ dirty language? No," she flatly replied. "No, I've seen what goes on here in this building; it isn't hard to figure out after you've watched your counterparts' horns chopped to bits and bodies taken-" she stopped, closed her eyes, and shuddered. "They make them breed," she explained, "and take our horns. And when the children have grown, they take their horns and the cycle begins again."

Hiccup made a face of horror. Well, that would certainly explain what the prefect meant when he was talking to his daughter about "lots of babies". He bit his lip and felt a heavy layer of anguish paint his canvas of a heart. Of all the people he'd met, the prefect and his little family were the most likable. It was almost a shame that they had given him up for this. But despite what he felt, Hiccup had to focus on the situation at hand. "That's-But you're not even in heat yet!" He stiffened even more so, blushing heavily. "A-Are you?"

Astrid recoiled like she'd been slapped. "No!" She shouted, causing her counterpart to jolt. "Of course I'm not! You should know that. I couldn't be. Not after what they did to me..." She lifted a hand and touched the bandages around her head and she grew even more crestfallen. "I-I didn't think that they'd actually do it, so I kept fighting to escape. I did everything I could, until..."

Hiccup was quiet but curiosity got the better of him. "Un-Until what?"

Astrid's brows furrowed and she managed a tiny, proud smirk. "I gorged someone's eyes out." Hiccup rose his eyebrows in astonishment.

"No way."

"Yes way," she confirmed. "He deserved it, and it's almost worth my er, disfigurement." Hiccup stared at her. Now that her horns were missing, she could almost pass for a human-a Roman even, he felt the tiniest hint of disdain prodding at his instincts. But he shoved them aside for the girl.

"You...You're very brave," he finally said, and admitted, "I couldn't do that."

Astrid shrugged her armored shoulders and bit the inside of her cheek. "You could. If they were tying you up so that some random male could-" she looked at him. "You know what I mean? You would give it your all. You have pride."

Hiccup rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. She had a point. "So...what should we do?"

"I don't know," Astrid admitted. "We're like trash to those monsters. If we retaliate, they'll just skin us alive and capture more _cooperative_ members of our tribes."

Hiccup winced, thinking of Gobber, his cousin, and the rest of the teens. "...Well," he murmured. "Then should we-?" He gestured between the two of them.

"No," Astrid refused flatly. "Not here. I forbid it."

Hiccup gripped at his hair, flustered. "I mean, maybe it won't be so bad! Maybe that's our only way out of this dungeon. Maybe if we obey-"

"Gods, Hiccup-!" Astrid shrieked, covering her reddening cheeks. "I'm a Viking, not a yak!"

"Listen, please," he begged, but she was resilient.

"No, I'm not going to "expand our species" today," she stated with a glare. "My children-if I ever have any, are not going to grow here in Fort Sinister. And that, my friend, is final. We-We have to think of another way to get out of here. Something that doesn't involve you touching me with your dirty little fingers."

"Like what?!"

"I don't know!" She snapped. "Whenever I tried anything at all, they would whip me until I bled! They deprived me of food and water! They cut off my horns for Thor's sake!"

"And they'll do the same to me, huh?" Hiccup asked sadly, but to his surprise, Astrid shook her head.

"Nah, I think they're more lenient on males for some reason. In their society, I guess it's just the norm to favor the masculine caliber."

Hiccup wrinkled his nose. "Can't imagine why..."

Astrid nodded with agreement. "Neither can I. But what I can tell you is that you are special to them. You have some sort of immunity. And unless you do something drastic-knowing you, you probably will-you have an invisible shield surrounding you."

"Because...I'm male?" Hiccup asked. "My dad is obviously male and they-"

"They what?" She grew instantly concerned at the mention of her beloved leader. "Is he okay? He's okay, right?"

Hiccup blinked once, twice, and then shrugged. "I...don't know," he sadly confessed, twiddling his fingers.

There was a small silence as Hiccup and his counterpart stared off at the floor.

"I'm sorry," Astrid said, her tone softening. "I didn't realize."

"It's okay," Hiccup sighed. "I wish he was here to help."

"Me too," the girl admitted, "but I'm glad you're here. You're special to those monsters."

"Ah yes. And why on Berk would that be?"

Astrid thrust her hands at him. "Why else? Look at you! You speak Latin! You are an absolute rarity!"

Hiccup just stared at her. "Uh...and that makes me special to breeders?"

Astrid just shook her head. "Well, it must be amusing to them at the very least to be able to communicate with our kind."

Hiccup sighed. "Well, that tells us nothing. We need to figure out a way out of here." He got to his feet and walked over to the bars, touching them lightly. "Think you can bust them open?"

Astrid gestured to her chained ankles. "Stuck, remember? Besides, I couldn't ram those things without horns."

"Let me try then."

Astrid smirked. "You'll get a headache, Haddock."

"Worth it."

...

Stoick was having the time of his LIFE. Not really, of course. After his son had been so precariously taken from him, he'd been immediately transported to an outdoor arena, where they kept him in some dark little cage until Spartans in training arrived.

Fighting trainees.

"He's a very aggressive creature, isn't he?"

The black haired teen shrugged and watched as the Viking fought off yet another gladiator with nothing but his bare fists. "He's very efficient. Good for our trainees."

Stoick the Vast wiped his sweaty forehead with his enemy's wrist-the one he'd literally torn from its owner-and tossed it aside. He felt it fair. They had taken his horns, so he felt it reasonable to take something from the Romans as well.

...

"Hiccup, how many times are you gonna bash your head against the cage bars?" Asked an amused Astrid, who'd just witnessed Hiccup ramming his horns into the cage bars to try and disfigure them. It had turned out to be a futile effort, and all Hiccup had gained was a splitting headache and a rather unpleasant soreness in his horns.

"As many times as it takes," he mumbled, a little dizzy from all the ramming. "I mean, they aren't steel, so maybe I've got a chance."

Astrid nodded sarcastically. "Of getting brain damage," she agreed. "Just let it go, Hiccup. Those things aren't going to budge. And I know that because believe it or not, I've been rotting in here for the last four days. I've tried everything!"

Hiccup sat down with a huff right across from her and glanced at her warily. "Everything?" He asked meekly.

"Everything," she confirmed with a nod.

Hiccup slapped his hand shake to his freckled face and rubbed his emerald eyes tiredly. "So that's it then. No more us," he miserably concluded, to which Astrid's glare intensified.

"Not so fast, runt," she declared, "We're gonna get outta here if it's the last thing we do!"

"It very well be the last thing we do," Hiccup reasoned helplessly. "We'll die in the process!"

Astrid puffed herself up. "Then we'll die with honor!"

"Astrid," Hiccup choked, "we can't-"

"Hey! What's with all th' noise down 'ere?" Came the gruff shout of a soldier, heavily armored from head to toe as he entered the room. Staring down at the miserable pair, he grinned, and revealed something from behind his back.

There was quiet, until Astrid let out a subtle growl. Hiccup was confused until he scrutinized the guard and fell instantly sick. That horrible person was holding a Viking horn in each hand, and judging by the sickened furious look on Astrid's face, he knew where those horns had come from.

With a soft chuckle, the guard tossed the severed horns between the bars and the two Vikings watched with horror they clattered upon the floor. After a moment of silence, Astrid gingerly crawled forward to retrieve her horns, glowering quietly. Hiccup, who did NOT take kindly to what this man was doing, hissed and bared his teeth at him.

The guard just laughed. "I was told to give ya'll my regards, and a little present from Snadge." Before Hiccup could back away, the man had flourished a blunt spear and thrust it through the bars, striking Hiccup between his left arm and chest. The young Viking gasped as the arrowhead slipped through the gap, and thinking quickly, closed the gap by tightening his arm. The arrowhead actually came loose, clattering upon the floor. The guard rose his eyebrows and drew back the spear, but it was too late; Hiccup had what he needed.

"Ey, ya little barbarian," the man growled, reaching through the bars, "give that back-ACK!" Hiccup had leapt for the man's hand when it reached through the bars and now he had the entirety of the arm in his grasp.

"Astrid!" He cried, holding fast. "Grab the keys!"

The girl obeyed, reaching with all her might and grasped the keys dangling from said guard's belt as he was pulled against the bars.

Hiccup held the guard close as he yanked his arm back, which promptly bashed the young Viking into the bars. "Ow!" He yelped, head throbbing dizzily. "Astrid please!"

It did not take long for the girl to undo her bindings and toss the keys back to Hiccup, who released the man without warning. Said man stumbled back, and with all the luck for the two Vikings, hit his head back against the stone wall, which knocked him out cold.

There was a collective silence as both Hiccup and Astrid panted, the ordeal firing up both their erratic nerves and adrenaline. After making sure the man was fully unconscious, Hiccup grinned with relief, stuck the keys in the lock of the cage door, unlocked it, and pushed it open.

They were free.

"Huh." Hiccup whipped around, breathing heavily to see a smiling Astrid, hands on her hips, looking rather impressed. "Nice work there, for a runt."

Hiccup smiled back, and it was genuine. "Not bad yourself!" He almost stammered, rubbing his neck.

All seemed well and good for the most part, and the two teenage Vikings were about to make a dash for then stairs, but then-

"Oi, Adorjan!" Came the call of the horrid teenage guard from upstairs. Both Hiccup and Astrid froze with fear. "Are you alright down there? We heard some stumbling!"

"Thor!" Astrid cursed under her breath, grabbing Hiccup's attention as she turned quite pale in the face. "It's Celso!" Ah, so THAT was the teenager's name. Hiccup hadn't quite liked him from the start.

"Don't panic!" The boy ordered, and then deepened his voice to imitate this so called "Adorjan" guard. "Um, e-everything's fine, Celso!" He called back up in Latin. "Just poking some fun!" He stopped and then internally cursed himself for saying something so flimsy.

There was a very stressful, pregnant pause until the teen nonchalantly replied, "Alright, well, the boys and I are headin' to the arena to watch that Viking chief fight our gladiators. We'll meetcha there. Bye!"

And then there was quiet.

"..."

"..."

"...Is it-"

"SHHH!"

"Okay, sorry, but did you-"

"SHHHHHH!" Astrid shushed frantically, flapping her hands. "Be QUIET!"

"They're gone!" Hiccup hissed. "But you know what he said? Viking _chief! Arena!"_

It dawned on her and her face brightened. "Arena?"

"Dad/Alpha!" They both cried in unison before simultaneously shushing each other.

"I'll bet that's where they're keeping him," Hiccup grinned with excitement after the moment passed. Astrid was equally as excited as even more relived.

"C'mon," she ordered, grabbing him by the hand. "We have to find him and get out of here!"

"Wait, Astrid!" Hiccup hastily interrupted, surprising the female by tearing his hand out of hers. "We can't be all hasty about escaping-no. We need to think about this, carefully."

Astrid was astounded. "Hiccup, we just found out where your dad is. You wanna wait until we're found out before we can get to him?"

Hiccup didn't answer her.

She huffed with exasperation, holding tightly onto her horns. "Fine," she snapped. "Then what do we do?"

"Just...wait until nightfall. So we can sneak out of here, I suppose."

"Just sit here? Hiccup that's a stupid idea! They could easily just walk down those steps and-"

"Well if you have a better idea, then I'd love to hear it!" He snapped at her before he could stop himself. The slightly shocked look on her face made him instantly regret his harsh tone, and his complexion softened. "Look, I'm sorry. But we can't be all careless about this. This isn't a game of hide and kill-this is real life! And we need to figure out away we can all escape with our lives."

Astrid bit her lip. "What about...?"

"About what?"

"The girls," she forced out, gesturing toward the stairs. "They've been suffering much longer than I have. Couldn't we-"

"Ah, I don't know about that, Astrid," Hiccup muttered. "As much as I'd love to help them-"

"You don't know them, I know," Astrid snapped. "But I do, and these aren't drudges, Hiccup. These Vikings have families, tribes, mates even! We can't just leave them here to fend for themselves. We need to bring them with us."

"We can't!" Hiccup tried to reason. "Not unless we want to get caught with a parade of proclaimed fugitives on our backs!"

Astrid inhaled sharply, got to her feet, and stomped on over until she was nose to nose with her male counterpart. "Either we bring those poor girls with us," she hissed, "or you can escape on your own." And with that, she crossed her arms and sat.

Hiccup stared down at her and sighed, running his hands through his hair, frantically trying to think of a resolution. Boy, she could be very stubborn. But to her defense, seven generations of Viking breeding stock could do that to a person. Before long, Hiccup was actually wondering whether or not he should go on alone, but after a few minutes pause, he finally came up with a condition. "Okay, okay," he conceded. "How about this? You come with me, we get my dad, and once we get back to Berk, we can organize a rescue mission for the girls. That way, we don't have to endanger ourselves-or them-by making an escape."

Astrid looked thoughtful and she rubbed her chin. "Tempting offer," she admitted, and then got to her feet. "You promise?"

Hiccup nodded, although on the inside, he was frantically wondering how on Berk he could convince his father to come back to Fort Sinister to live up to his end of the deal. "I promise," he assured, and took her hands. "C'mon; maybe we can disguise ourselves and look around that way."

Astrid gave a quick nod of compliance before the two Vikings bounded up the stairs.

Now Hiccup could understand why Astrid had wanted to help the girls. Chained, bruised, weak, used, and abused, they were nothing more to the Romans than sacks of meat. And the stench, Gods, it was awful. The girls soft moaning and murmuring quickly rose as Astrid gingerly approached them, and then died down again as she quickly explained Hiccup's plan.

"Leave no Viking behind," she promised, which a poor female gasped out in rapture. "Shh!" Astrid soothed with a smile. "Don't worry. We'll come back for you. He's the chief's son. You have a whole tribe on your side."

Hiccup inwardly groaned. His dad was going to flip his buoy.

"Just stay strong girls," Astrid soothed. "C'mon Hiccup."

When they entered the outside world, Astrid could have cried with joy. To breath fresh air again was a dream come true. But she couldn't enjoy it for long for they had a mission in store.

"How do we find this arena?" She asked.

Hiccup looked up. "I suggest we head for the brightly lit coliseum over there." He pointed.

"Ah."

They rushed over, dodging guards and hiding behind barrels and other appliances. The streets were surprisingly empty. "They must be watching the gladiator fights," Astrid assumed, wrinkling her nose with disgust. "With any luck, they may be fighting your father."

"That's what I'm hoping for," Hiccup sarcastically remarked. "Kind of."

...

What do you want to happen next? Leave a flippity-floppity review!


	5. The Coliseum

**Author's Note: Thank all of you for the kindness and support! I hope by the time I've finished this chapter, a multitude of time hasn't quite passed. Enjoy!**

 **Commence the Responses: (because I haven't done that in a long time)**

 **CassandraDayTree: Why thank you! It always warms my heart to hear from you. Thanks for sticking with me for all these years, bro!**

 **A Person Who Likes Comedy: YES! Hail to Hiccup and Astrid! The King and Queen of dragons! Don't worry there will be an escape scene, and we will get to find out if any of our lovely ladies escaped.**

 **Noname: Aw, I'm sorry about that. To be honest I was kind of in a hurry when I was writing it so sorry if it seem too rushed for your taste. I promise that I'll try harder and I'll go back and revise the chapter.**

 **Guest: Thank you so much!**

 **Guardian Of Azarath: I think you'll get what you're looking for in this chapter. ;) I have been working hard to conform with people to make this chapter great.**

 **Monkey Lover 911: And you are a sweet reviewer. I promise you that what will happen next will be sick. Really sick.**

 **Nagajewel: Thanks bro! I will!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the How To Train Your Dragon series.**

 **Other thing: I do not allow swearing in my story and I hopefully won't see it in the comments. Have a nice day!**

...

 **Chapter Five:** _ **The Coliseum**_

Stoick couldn't think of a worse place he would rather be, locked up in a pen like a common animal, his cosmic body festooned with bruises and slashes, and as for his horns; they had been detached without his sanction. Now, as far as he was concerned, situated where his regal horns were once proudly displayed, there were two bandaged, bloody holes on either side of his head, sore and aching with agonizing pain.

It was like... It was more than losing an arm of a leg; he had plenty of friends who'd lost both. Pain-wise it was the same, but mentally-wise, it was losing a part of his identity-who and what he _was_. A proud Viking! The chief of his clan! And the Romans had effortlessly stolen that from him-without a care.

Stoick gently brushed his large fingers against the bindings and winced at the sting that came along with the movement. His head was pounding like crazy, and at that point, he was sure to have a migraine from the hurting. But trying to make the best out of the worst, he made many attempts to relax while he could; he really did, but he wasn't sure how much longer he could take the abuse.

Spears, swords, maces, the bashing of shields, and the shedding of blood: too much in such a short amount of time. He was a skilled warrior, yes. As fit as an ox, and could pop a dragon's head clean off of its body. But this was different. This was inhumane. This was...torture.

He trembled, hands shaking and twitching from an abundance of uncanny emotions: anger mostly, but desperation coupled with worry and anxiety as well. Angry that his horns had been taken and probably mounted as some decorated ornament above a fireplace, desperate because of his poor son, who had been so precariously taken from his loving clutches just a day or two ago. Anxiety because his tribe was alone without a proper leader, and what tribe was to run without its chief?

"Has it been that long?" Stoick wondered. It honestly felt like _years_ since he'd been rounded up to battle Spartan trainees, ranging from teenagers to middle aged Romans, each one stronger and faster than the last. One by one, they'd been sent into the large arena, bloodthirsty for Viking horns. He'd done well to protect himself just until today and Snadge-Stoick sneered-Snadge was pleased by the loss of his horns.

In fact, he'd been the one to remove the horns in the first place.

Speaking of which...

The door to the small room opened and in popped Snadge, who smirked upon catching sight of the poor, un-rested Viking upon the stone floor. "Well, well, well," he sneered, "if it isn't the grand warrior himself, the great chief of Berk...feeling refreshed?"

Stoick's green eyes had grown wide when he lifted his head as the man entered, and his heart had dropped to his stomach.

 _There_ were his horns, fastened in some sick, twisted fashion upon the man's helmet, sticking out on either side. Stoick could have lost the contents of his stomach but he slowly rose instead, his nostrils flaring.

"How dare you..." He breathed, eyes glinting with pure rage. "H-How-?" He stopped, for Snadge had probably guessed what he said.

"Isn't this exquisite? Becoming quite in style, if I do say so myself," Snadge chuckled; removing the helmet to run his fingers over the rigid appliance. And although Stoick could understand nothing the man was saying, he roared and grabbed for him through the bars.

Snadge stood easily out of the Viking's reach, looking quite content. "Just think of it," he basked. "A new trend, one that just may put your kind out of existence for good." He took a step forward. "Helmets, helmets, helmets, upon helmets for everyone! Just imagine it..." He paused. "I'm not in it for the gold-you should know that by now."

He took another step forward, so that his face just barely brushed against the Viking's large fingers. "No more Vikings to gorge any eyes out." He smiled. "You're a lowly creature now, Chief of Berk. Remember that. Starting with you and your young, this will be a revolutionary fashion trend."

"Horrendous scum," Stoick growled, yanking his arm back through the bars and re-gripping them instead, his forehead resting against the cold metal. "You'll regret this, you will," he promised. "As soon as Ah escape from this madness-" he stopped, for Snadge had already turned away.

"Goodbye, barbarian," was his pleasant valedictory. "Perhaps we'll meet again after the show. Or, maybe we won't?" He laughed, with a hand on the door, and then sneered, "Good riddance," before exiting.

Stoick watched him go, unable to do anything about it, and that mere fact alone caused him to slump. His own helplessness was infuriating, but what was he to do? How could he ever rescue his child if he could not even rescue himself?

...

Hiccup had a clever plan. Many would call it fiendishly clever. It was his idea that he and Astrid would both sneak into the coliseum under the guise of common slaves, under the semblance of humble attitudes. If they could make their way past the guards and into the arena itself, they could somehow reach the chief before he was put out to fight, get him out of there, and leave for Berk by scaling the fort and stealing a vessel from the docks. They would have to move quickly.

The plan, like any, however, had major flaws. For example, the guards didn't lack in the brains department, and that's just what Hiccup was realizing as they came across the first obstacle in front of the large coliseum.

"Who goes there?" A large guard uttered in Latin, drawing his spear warningly. The two Vikings stopped in their tracks, trying their best to look innocent, and Astrid gave Hiccup a subtle nod, one that the guard failed to notice. It meant that he needed to start talking now.

"W-We are here to serve the guests," Hiccup answered lightly, heart pounding in his chest as he folded his hands across it. "Celso sent us." Astrid tried her best to appear defeated and humble, bowing her head. He had hoped that a server would be one of the positions a Viking could have in this place.

The guard's eyebrows rose. "...You speak Latin," he stated. It was not a question. Hiccup swallowed hard and tried not to look frightened, as he was, out of his mind in fact.

"Y-Yes," he admitted. "I was taught by scholars."

"Vikings aren't taught Latin here." The burly guard didn't look convinced, and Hiccup started to sweat. "Word gets out, Lad," he told him skeptically. "And from what I know, you are supposed to be stationed in the _Educ Domum_ , correct?"

Hiccup could have melted into the stone ground right there and become a part of the pavement. Was he really that famous at Fort Sinister? "Oh!" He exclaimed, stealing a glance at a stricken Astrid. "That...yes, well, we were transferred, actually," Hiccup stammered clumsily.

The guard stared at him, skeptical. "Really?" He asked, uncertain, "You _and_ the girl?"

Hiccup swallowed hard and gave Astrid another tiny glance. She looked back at him, eyes wide. "Yep," the male Viking answered evenly. "That's correct."

The guard narrowed his eyes, and Hiccup felt his instinctual drive begin to chink. Something was going to happen, he could feel it.

"Lad, you'd better come with me." The guard ordered, and he reached out.

Panicking, Hiccup wrenched away with a cry. Shocked by the volume of the yelp, the guard yanked his hand away and gasped.

"Gods! Astrid, _run_!" The male Viking hollered, ducking under the man's arm and running into the entrance, his horns scuffing the sleeve of said man's shirt in the process, spinning him around, to which Astrid followed and delivered a well-resounding blow to the man's chest, knocking him off-balance. And after that, she sped off after her friend.

They rushed into the coliseum, lit with torches everywhere. "Well that worked!" Moaned Hiccup as they ran down an empty hallway. He bashed his own forehead in the process. "Gods, how stupid could I be?!"

"Don't be so hard on yourself. You're naive, not stupid," Astrid groaned, pumping her arms. "But we have bigger things to worry about. Like finding your dad and getting the heck outta here!"

...

"How exciting!" Julius groaned, resting his chin upon his hands. He and his family had a fantastic view of the arena, up where they were in the stands. However, they'd been seated quite a while ago, and the show hadn't quite begun yet. Therefore, he was getting restless, along with every other audience member. "Nothing better than waiting until your butt goes numb," he mumbled.

"I lost all feeling down there an hour ago," the elder one, Giordano, chimed in with an uncomfortable groan, massaging his thighs.

Aranka was less than excited. She hummed out of boredom and lack of comfort, swinging her skinny legs and blowing spit bubbles, her eyes glazed as she stared into the vast empty wasteland of an arena.

"Honey, please don't do that," the prefect sighed, touching her shoulder. "The show is about to begin."

"We've been waiting here forEVER," she groaned kicking the seat in front of her, causing the person before her to turn around and frown.

After a quick apology, the prefect addressed his daughter and smiled. "I know," he admitted, patting the small of her petite back. "It HAS been a while, hasn't it? But that's because the people in charge are making sure that the show is going to be the best ever! They're working super hard, I'm sure."

Aranka frowned, and after a moment's thought, she announced, "I wanna see Hiccup again!"

Before the prefect could answer this out-of-nowhere request, the younger brothers began to laugh. "Ooooh! Aranka's in love with a Viking!" They teased, while the prefect bit his lip. "Viking lover! Viking lover!"

The little girl went absolutely pink. "Am not!" She shouted, catching the attention of many others seated around them. Her mouth was covered a moment later by her embarrassed father, who scolded her accordingly.

"Hey, relax," he warned, "or we're going straight home and you won't ever see Hiccup. And boys," he added, causing the young ones' eyes to widen, "stay out of trouble. We don't say things like that around here. Understood?"

"Yes, Dad," they chanted in unison.

Aranka went silent at that, and she nodded, because she wanted to see her friend again.

The prefect all but sighed, sinking lower into his seat. He for one could not understand his daughter's affection for the young Viking, but he was desperate to know, to discover that same sort of connection the two had created that night during dinner.

...

Hiccup wasn't sure how long they could keep running without being seen. There were guards everywhere, and it was only a matter of time before they were-

"What in Jupiter's name?" The Roman that had stepped out of the dark swore, causing the two of them to crash into him with a thud. After a moment's confusion, the Spartan made a grab and captured the two Vikings by their hair before they could even attempt to move. "Well, well, well."

He smiled as the two struggled with all their might, but he was stronger than them by far. "Calm down you two, there there now-shhhhh," he soothed. "Outsmarted my men, have ya? Have you come to join the show?"

Astrid bared her teeth and snarled, delivering a swift kick to the man's shin, and he howled accordingly. "You little _barbarous_!" He cursed, shaking her by the head, causing her to yelp in pain.

Hiccup's eyes flared, and put in his own kick to the man's shin to match hers. His was not as nearly as fierce as hers, however, and the man merely glared at him in annoyance.

Hiccup froze. It was Snadge, the man who had a particular hatred for Vikings.

"What's this?" The man asked with genuine curiosity. "Do I have a pair of fighters here?"

Hiccup went white. "Wait!" He cried as they were flung into a nearby cage on rollers and locked inside. "Sir, I can explain!" He quickly got to his knees and grabbed the cage bars, pressing his face against them. "We were transferred! _Transferred_!"

Snadge whipped around and smiled a scary smile, causing the poor Viking to shrink back.

"I believe you," he grinned. And he walked out into the arena.

...

"Alright big boy," sighed another guard. "It's time to go."

Stoick sat with a thud, his arms folded across his vast chest, refusing to move even an inch for the Spartan.

The guard stared at him and then groaned. "Fine. Stay there in your cage. You're still going to fight, you-" he paused and stared blankly at the Viking. "Riiiiight. You can't understand a word I'm saying, can't you?"

Stoick said nothing and the guard groaned. "Stupid animal."

...

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Came the roar of the announcer, which was Snadge himself.

Hearing this, Ceaser shook his nearly-bored-to-death sister awake. "It's starting!" He whispered-yelled excitedly. "Finally!"

"About time," the eldest groaned, rubbing his behind. "I think I might need to amputate my legs."

"Tonight," roared Snadge so that the entirety of the stadium could hear," is a special night. One that will remain with you, I'm sure, for the rest of your lives!"

"Hooray!" Aranka applauded.

The crowd cheered, stomping their feet until the place rumbled like thunder. From inside their cage, Hiccup listened intently, and Astrid watched him with worry. "What's he saying?" She whispered, to which Hiccup gently shushed her.

"Tonight!" Snadge repeated, flourishing his hand to one end of the arena, "You are about to witness something truly amazing. You all know of the Vikings-"

The crowd booed and yelled, causing Hiccup to bristle.

"Heheh. Vile creatures they are!" Snadge laughed. "This is why I'm sure all of you are very excited to see one or two perish. Your honorable soldiers have captured a great bout of creatures thin and wide, and lemme tell ya folks," he chuckled, "this is going to be the bloodbath...of the era." While the crowd cheered, he swept his red cape to the side and walked over to Hiccup and Astrid's cage. They glared at him, Hiccup with trembling fear, Astrid with solid defiance.

"Say hello to Venus for me," he sneered, pressing his face against the bars. Hiccup curled his fists but said nothing. Astrid, however, got right up in the man's face and growled, expelling spittle from her mouth, "You are nothing but a steaming pile of dragon dung. _Drittsekk!"_ Hiccup covered his mouth and tried not to burst at her profanity, despite his fear.

Snadge gave the female an unamused look and retrieved his new helmet from a fellow guard, making sure to flourish the horned headpiece before placing it upon his head. "Silly Viking," he chuckled. "You haven't learned your lesson yet, haven't you?"

Astrid stared and clenched her horns (she had tied them to her belt with spare string), while Hiccup began to shake with unquenchable fury. "Again," the female slowly scorned, noticing out of the corner of her eye that Hiccup had gotten to his feet. "Nothing but a steaming pile of-Hiccup!?"

Hiccup roared, slamming himself against the bars. "I'll fight you myself!" He shouted in Norse before continuing in Latin.

He recognized those horns; those were his father's! "What did you _do_ to him, you swine?!" Had these Romans actually done the unthinkable? Had they done away with his poor father?

If they had, he would...would... Hiccup began woozy quite quickly, stomach churning while his mind became all but a white hot slurry of emotions as it became a strong possibility that his father might be dead, many he could not place due to his sudden bout of hysteria.

" _Fili canis_!" He shouted hoarsely, yanking at the bars with a sudden burst of strength, though this did little to weaken the metal. " _Pelle_ _et ego vivere! Et de hac cavea per_ _ **Thor**_ _obviam es fictori_ _quomodo_ _audes noceret mihi pater mi_ _amicus_ _meus!_ _Scum sunt: Te mori! Faciamque certum fit!_

The eerie grin on the man's face slowly grew darker and darker as Hiccup continued his shouting tirade until his face was white with rage and his teeth were gritted so tightly they cracked.

"That's it. Let it out. You will fight," Snadge whispered, shoving his face so close to the Viking that their noses were touching, "by Jupiter, little barbarian-you will fight or you will DIE!"

Hiccup screamed at him and Astrid joined in with her own layer of screeches, though she knew nothing that the man was saying. "You Romans think you own everyone and everything that moves?!" Hiccup wailed in Norse, tears gathering in the corners of his emerald, bloodshot eyes. "Do you think that you're one of the Gods?! Do you?!"

Snadge had no answer, of course. Instead, he swept himself away from the hysterical Viking and addressed the awaiting crowd. "LET THE GAME BEGIN!" He shouted and flourished his arms, electing shouts of approval from the huge audience. With a small, angry smile, he addressed the two caged Vikings.

"Prepare yourselves," he snickered, "little barbarians, for this is your last day on this Earth."

With that said and done, he disappeared from the rink and a lever was pulled, allowing the cage door to open. At first, Hiccup refused to move, stricken to the core by the supposed "death" of his father, but with a little nudge of logic (and Astrid) he assumed it best to prepare for any adversaries that may appear. With a quiet sob, he cautiously stepped into the torch-lit night, and Astrid followed suit with her fists clenched at the ready. She was prepared to avenge her chief.

"What do we got?" She whispered breathlessly, blowing her bangs out of her azure eyes as she quickly scanned the area. "Wolves? Bears? Dragons?"

Hiccup lazily followed her gaze, his vision blurry and his desire to live slackened by grief. But then...

" _Dad_...?" The male breathed, stumbling backward. At the other end of the stadium, there was indeed the man who'd raised him, standing tall but weary, who noticed him the moment he was released from his confines. He was a mess... Hiccup's throat went dry as the man ran at him, axe in hand.

His heart plummeted, ugly scenarios coming to mind as the man approached. After all that had happened to them, he could only imagine what his father had been through. Vikings were mentally fickle as they came, and Stoick's sanity might have vanished. And then...he noticed the tears welling up in the elder's eyes, the blotchy skin of his face, the bruises on his arms and legs...

Astrid noticed the man at the last second and felt the blood drain from her face.

No...

There was a moment where Hiccup really thought that his father was actually going to kill him, and that the axe his father was brandishing would sink deep into his skull and he would enter Valhalla. He stood stock still, his instincts screaming at him to go to his father and embrace him, but his instincts knew little of the situation they were in.

A foot away from the two young Vikings, was Stoick.

Astrid screamed.

Hiccup closed his eyes...and then was crushed.

…Crushed by Stoick rushing forward and embracing him, nearly squeezing him to death in his loving, desperate grip. Astrid had fallen back on her haunches, breathing heavily.

"Ch-Chief?" She whispered, shakily swiping her blonde bangs from her face. It must be confessed the Stoick hardly even noticed her presence, nor did he acknowledge it.

The crowd murmured in confusion as Hiccup felt his rattled nerves begin to settle. His father...his father was alive! Not well, but alive all the same.

"It's okay. Everything's going to be alright," Stoick soothed, but his voice was cracking tremendously. Hiccup stared over his shoulder, seeing nothing but feeling everything. He returned the embrace graciously, wrapping his arms around his father's thick neck as best as he could. Astrid watched the two males embrace, and managed a small smile of her own. Well, they got the chief, but now...what?

"Hey!" Someone shouted in confusion. "Where's the bloodbath?"

"Yeah!" Another agreed.

"Why is the bigger one preening the littler one?" Another asked, equally confused.

"I thought they were going to fight to the death over the female!" A woman shouted.

While all this shouting was going on, the prefect and his family watched from the sidelines, completely appalled. "Hiccup, what in the world?" The head of the small clan whispered. "Is-Is that really-?"

"Hey, isn't he supposed to be in the breeding place?" The eldest girl asked, rubbing her chin with worry, "with that female?"

" _Aranka_?" Ceaser called out in confusion, whipping his head back and forth. "Where are you?"

It took a moment or two for the prefect to process what had just been said, and once he absorbed this new bout of information, he leapt from his seat and stared open mouthed.

What...what was his little girl _doing_?

Racing down the steep steps of the rows as fast as her little legs could carry her, Aranka was doing the unthinkable. She was entering the ring.

...

"I thought I lost you," Hiccup whispered happily, tears welling up in his emerald eyes. "W-When he showed me your horns...I thought..."

Stoick's grip only got tighter as he clenched his son's tunic. "I'm so sorry," he apologized.

Hiccup pulled back and smiled tearfully. "For what?" He croaked. "You didn't do anything..."

Stoick smiled back. "For-For everything."

Hiccup just shook his head sorrowfully. "Oh, _Dad_ , I-"

"HICCUP!" Came Astrid's hasty shout, and she leapt forward with a tremendous heave, shoving the two out of the way just as a spear whizzed by.

Out came Snadge, bearing another spear, and a shield, his expression nothing short of ferocious.

Sensing extreme danger afoot, Stoick took immediate action. "Get behind me," he ordered and the two young Vikings obeyed, scrambling behind his vast form. "It's time," he said, cracking his knuckles dramatically, "that I end this."

"Wait!"

Came the distant shout of someone in the audience. Everyone, including and Stoick and Snadge, turned to look. "There's a little girl!" The bystander screamed, and pointed to where said girl was: in the ring, approaching the three Vikings with a determined smile on her little face.

"Aranka?" Hiccup gasped as the little girl ran at him. The crowd could only scream as she reached him, expecting the worst to transpire, but then murmured in confusion yet again as he...embraced her.

"..."

"He's...not killing her...?"

"..."

"No, he's...grooming her?"

And that was true indeed. After gathering the tiny girl up in his arms, assuming that Snadge would never harm his own kind, Hiccup had quietly dragged his tongue over the skin of her face in rushed, sort of panicky licks, gently scraping any dirt away with his sharp canines. Of course, she fell into a fit of giggles at the touch.

"That tickles!" She giggled as he nuzzled her further.

"..."

The crowd was in a bit of a pickle at that stage. On one hand they wanted a bloodbath, but on the other hand, they didn't want this little girl's eyes to be gorged out. She was one of their own! A Roman!

"Aranka," Hiccup murmured once he was done grooming her, as her tiny hands clutched at his green tunic, "What are you doing here?" He asked. "You need to get out! It's dangerous for little kids to be down here, Bud."

He was half-expecting her to listen, but it still surprised him when she defiantly shook her head. "No," came the girl's stubborn reply. "I don't want to let you get hurt."

Snadge stopped in his tracks, as did Stoick, and Hiccup let out a sigh of relief as the girl snuggled into the nape of his neck. Perhaps there would be no bloodbath after all.

"Hiccup," the large Viking nervously proclaimed, "let her go this instant."

"Let her go, Barbarian," came Snadge's order. "Or I shall _dehorn_ you myself."

"Wait! Not so fast," yelped the nervous prefect, hopping over the last row of seats and scrambling in on the scene. He was terribly breathless, and had to stop and bend over to catch his breath. " _This,"_ he gestured wildly with his hand once he was situated, "has to stop."

Snadge nodded and thrust the spear in Hiccup's direction. "Of course it shall, Prefect. Fear not, I shall handle this."

"Wait! Stop it!" The prefect shouted to a now confused Spartan. "He'll..." The prefect regarded Hiccup wearily and then turned to a shocked Snadge. "He...He wouldn't hurt my daughter; I see it in his eyes," he admitted, pointing to his own eyes. "Snadge, I know a killer when I see one; _those_ aren't the eyes of a killer."

There was a long pause as Snadge tried to collect his resolve and Hiccup quickly translated the Latin into Norse for his counterparts.

"I think...I think that these creatures are more than just...animals," the prefect slowly dawned, as if discovering this idea for the first time. "They...They have rituals. They have their own language, just like the Germanic, a-and the English! They have their own culture, their own clothes, their own food, and their own weapons! They have marriage ceremonies, they have husbands and wives! They even have a monarchy!" He stopped and gave a nod of acknowledgement to Stoick, who puffed himself up with pride after Hiccup translated it. "Snadge..." he turned to the armed Spartan, pleading with him to understand. "Doesn't that count for something?"

Snadge regarded him carefully, trying his best to control his portentous temper. "Just what are you suggesting, Prefect?"

The prefect swallowed his nervousness and stood up straight. "I'm suggesting that we let them go," he loudly pronounced, causing the audience to gasp and then whisper amongst themselves.

"Traitor!" Someone growled, and a few others picked up as a chorus.

"No!" The prefect cried, sensing that he was losing his target, and waved his thin arms. "Listen! Please! Would you know how painful it is to have your horns torn off? I'd imagine it'd be like amputating one of your arms!"

Snadge all but trembled from anger. Pure anger. "Don't throw your lot in with them," he snarled, brandishing his spear at the other man, who winced. "Do it and you shall die too."

"You'd turn on one of your own?"

"You're not one of us if you believe that these creatures are more than just the animals that they are," Snadge declared.

The prefect clasped his callused hands together, beseeching the other man to reconsider his actions. "Please, Snadge," he begged, "Think about this. They aren't who we think they are. _We don't have to kill them._ "

Snadge let out a hysterical, airy sort of laugh. "Think about? Good Gods, man, what is there to think about?" The prefect stood silently and the other man shook his head. "They are animals, _Praefectus_. Nothing more, and nothing less. They are not human, no. Not one of us." He repeated that, more to himself than anyone else, before saying, "Get your daughter out of here, go back to your seats, and try to enjoy the show." He clenched his spear and pointed it at Stoick and his son. "I will take care of the rest."

The prefect closed his eyes, thoughts swirling around in his mind like a water torpedo as he obeyed the man, slowly trudging over to the Vikings. The crowd held its breath. He bent down to Hiccup's level and smiled sadly. "Thank you," he said, "for taking care of my daughter while you could. Come, Aranka."

The little girl initially refused to comply, but a little nudge and nuzzle from Hiccup encouraged her to reluctantly return to her father's arms. The man then turned to Snadge, daughter in his arms, and announced,

"I won't conform to you this time, Snadge. I won't. I can't. Vikings are unpredictable, dangerous, and shifty as they come, yes, but I believe that they aren't evil at heart." He rose his voice. "Romans!" He shouted. "We cannot continue to treat our neighbors like this!"

"Viking-lover!" Someone shouted.

"Throw him into the ocean!" Another chimed in.

The prefect refused to back down. "They-" he glared at his adversary and spat, "They deserve much better than the shackles and chains you've provided."

He turned to Astrid, "They all do." The young Viking beamed affectionately at his words and rubbed the back of her neck as Hiccup quietly translated his words to Norse.

Snadge's nostrils flared as he tried to control himself. "If you think that those things are worth your time, then you are no friend of mine." The prefect's heart dropped at that statement, hurt, but quickly regained his resolve.

"I'm not asking you to be my friend, Snadge," he told him softly. "All I ask of you is to ensure their safety."

"To which that will not be granted," the man stubbornly replied, brandishing his spear once more. "Now get out and go back to your scrolls, _Prefect_."

The prefect clenched his fists and was about to retort but before he could, a sharp cry of alarm rose about the arena.

" _Vikings_!" Someone in the audience screamed before another muffled scream was emitted.

At first, all was quiet as everyone in the audience and in the ring listened intently for what had caused the abrupt commotion. Then, a harsh, battle cry echoed about the arena. And then another. And then another. And another and another!

"Vikings," Hiccup whispered.

"Vikings?" Astrid repeated, and caught Hiccup's gaze, to which they both gasped in happy disbelief.

The intruders were indeed Vikings, and true to their destructive nature, they heartily stormed into the coliseum, flourishing their hefty, spiky weapons and hollering all the while. Another interesting feature about these particular Vikings, was that all of them were...

...Female?

"It's the Bob-Burglars!" Stoick realized, and while a part of him was overjoyed that some help had arrived, his petty rival with Bertha, the chieftess of the tribe, roused some embarrassment in him pertaining to the fact that he had to be rescued.

But there was no time for silly rivalries. What mattered were the lives of the young, and they needed to be rescued more than anything.

"'ELLO THERE STOICK," boomed Bertha, knocking over a row of Spartans with her bosom as she hurled over the seats of the stadium. Her women followed suit, letting out cries of their own and slashing through enemies.

"What took ya so long, lassie?" Stoick had to let out a nearly hysterical laugh of relief. It was nice to see the boisterous woman, under the certain circumstances of course. He ran up to her, and clasped his hand against hers. It was then that she noticed his new deformity.

"My dear STOICK! Whate _ver_ happened to your horns?!" Bertha gasped, covering her mouth.

"Another time, Bertha. Right now we need to figure a way out," he said, and remembering the kind prefect and his children, desperately added, "And pardon the audience! Take out only the Spartans!"

Bertha nodded. "Mercy is for the weak, Stoick, but I shall try my best." And with that, she took off, heaving her impressive form towards the small army of Spartans and smothering them with her...um...strength.

Hiccup and Astrid watched the show with great enthusiasm. "What do we do now?" Hiccup asked curiously, dodging a spear thrown his way and watching it sail into the chest of a Spartan. He winced.

"We fight of course!" Is what Astrid was GOING to say, but a familiar female beat her to it.

Astrid whipped around to catch sight of who had spoken, and Hiccup framed his neck to see his long-time friend duking it out against a large hoard of Spartan soldiers much bigger than she. "Take that you Jupiter-worshiping worms!" She laughed with a giant smirk of triumph on her blotchy face. "Is that the best you can do?"

Hiccup broke into an even bigger smile. "Camicazi!" He cried. "Is that you? Don't tell me it's you!"

The girl with the wild blonde hair grinned at him, hand propped up on her hip, dueling effortlessly with a Spartan without even looking at him. "Hiya Hiccup!" She cheerfully called back. "Didn't you miss me?"

"Did I ever," he admitted, running to her. Astrid followed, rather reluctantly.

"What took you all so long?" She asked angrily, though it was half-hearted annoyance, due to the rescue actually transpiring.

Camicazi shrugged and shoved off her attacker as he leaned forward to grab her. "Oh, you know, complications that only us Bob-Burglars would understand. No offense, Hooligan." Hiccup snorted.

Astrid bristled, and looked her up and down. She wasn't a bad figure. Just a little messy but all around pretty. Even her horns were curled and pale pink at the bases and pure white at the tips. Astrid touched her bandages self-consciously, and while she steamed for reasons unknown, Hiccup just shook his head and took her hand in his. "Where to?" He asked the other shield-maiden.

Camicazi carelessly jerked her head to the exit of the arena. "'Kay, so being the amazing burglars that we are, we made this giant gash in their wall with our catapults. The ships are a little offshore, but if you swim, you can make it. Now hurry," she ordered, dodging a blow to the head. "I'll take care of these amateurs."

"Thanks so much, Cami!" Hiccup thanked her profoundly, and she smiled.

"She does seem to be pretty pleased with herself," Astrid muttered as she and her partner raced out of the arena. "How do you even know her?"

Hiccup rubbed the back of his neck as they passed a few buildings. "Eh...long story," he huffed.

"I have time-"

" **Long**! _Story_..."

...

For the first time in forever, the Hooligan and Bob-Burglar chief fought side by side, as close allies rather than petty rivals. They fought valiantly and violently, throwing off and Spartan that dared to cross their paths.

"Just like old times, ey Stoick?" Bertha boomed with a rowdy cackle, punching a guard square in the face when he brandished a spear at her.

Stoick paused, holding a guard high in the air with one hand and spoke thoughtfully, "Bertha, Ah can't recall any old times…"

The woman shrugged. "On yer left, Stoick."

Stoick's eyes widened and he whirled around. Sure enough, a bruised, bloody Snadge was charging, but he stopped once the Viking Chief quickly rounded himself up.

The two beings, man and Viking, began to circle one another, quietly, angrily. Sttoick was so tempted to rush forward and rip that helmet right off the man's head, but he collected his resolve and tried to keep his cool. Too often he would lose his temper, causing not only himself harm but for those around him as well. It needed to change. It was time to be patient.

Snadge was absolutely livid, actually shaking with rage. Not only had his prisoners escaped, but now Fort Sinister was under stack by the creatures he hated with a passion. He swore that he would not let the Chief escape, which was why when Stoick tried to peacefully pass, the Spartan flourished his spear threateningly.

"Not so fast, barbarian!" Snadge screamed at Stoick, who stopped and regarded him angrily. "You aren't going anywhere-GAH!"

It was the prefect who had bravely done his part, running as fast as he could at Snadge, knocking him off his feet, and slamming him into the wall of the arena, rendering him unconscious.

Stoick stared in disbelief as the roman panted, looking quite pale himself due to what he had just done, and crouched down to his height. The prefect noticed his close presence and jumped a little, fearful of the giant of a Viking.

"I-I don't know if you can understand me," the prefect stammered while Stoick stared, "but I'm so so so sorry about what happened to you and your son. I assure you, I don't tolerate that anymore-" he froze, for Stoick had laid a large hand on his shoulder.

For a moment, just a fraction of a moment, the Roman and the Viking looked into each other's eyes and saw a bit of themselves in the other. For a moment, there was understanding, compassion, and sympathy on both sides.

And then it was gone.

The Vikings were beginning their retreat.

"Fall back!" Bertha, the leader of the Bob-Burglars bellowed. "To th' boats!" Everyone, even Stoick, obeyed her command, so after a final round of delivering fatal blows to the Spartan's heads, they began to retreat.

But before Stoick left, he made sure to retrieve Snadge's-HIS helmet, his new horned helmet from the prefect, who gave it graciously.

...

Hiccup and Astrid stopped at the water's edge, staring out into the icy fjord. Astrid took a deep breath and waded in. "Alright," she said with a tiny shiver, "come on. The sooner we get there, the better."

But Hiccup didn't move.

"Hiccup?"

"..."

Astrid sighed when he didn't reply and rushed forward to grab his hand. "Come on, your dad will be fine! Let's go! The Bob-Burglar ships aren't too far off!"

Hiccup was looking quite conflicted, so Astrid's brows furrowed. "What's wrong?" She asked. "We've been rescued!"

Hiccup just shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. "I'm just...worried."

"...About?" Questioned Astrid.

"The prefect. Aranka."

Astrid was quizzical.

"You know, the Romans that stood up for us?"

"Is that what they were doing?" Astrid asked, surprised. She looked away, trying to process that, as it was hard to absorb. "I can't believe it," she breathed.

"Me neither," Hiccup admitted. "Sorry my translation was rusty. Anyway, that's why I'm worried about them. I mean, this is a society where hating Vikings is encouraged. I don't think Snadge-"

"Who?"

"The guy with the spear," the male quickly clarified.

"Oh."

"Anyway, I don't think he was happy, judging by the look on his face."

Astrid tugged at his hands. "C'mon, I'm sure it'll be fine! Romans are tight, man! Nothing bad's going to happen to them!"

Hiccup sighed. "I sure hope you're right."

"I'm always right. Now come on. We have to get home. The sooner we get there, the sooner we can organize a rescue mission for the girls."

Hiccup paled. "Oh, right."

...

Snadge stood silently after the Vikings had retreated, staring off into the now empty coliseum. The rest of the guards avoided him like the plague, except for one, and that was the prefect, now shackled and tied to rest uncomfortably in a wooden chair. He shifted, watching Snadge like a hawk, but the man had been standing there for a good twenty minutes without doing a single thing.

Until...

"All I want to know is why."

The prefect jerked his head up in acknowledgement. Snadge had finally spoken, but as he had, he had asked deadly question. And there was no way that he was going to tell him about Hiccup and his daughter. Well, the prefect had a question of his own.

"What will you do with my children?" He whispered hoarsely, trying to block the feelings of anxiety gathering in his system. His children, adopted or not, were his entire life. His world revolved around them, and if they were being punished because of him...

"That is none of your concern," the man answered with a subtle growl to his already gruff tone. "You should've worried about that when you threw yourself in with _their_ kind. What you should be worried about now is what is going to happen to _you_." The prefect tried not to let his fear show, but he knew that it was quite inevitable at that point that his expressions would betray him.

"I respect them much more than I fear you, Snadge," the prefect calmly declared. "You lost today. You miscalculated."

Snadge whirled around to deliver a well-resounding kick to the man's chest, knocking him backwards to land with a groan against the stone floor.

"No, _you_ miscalculated, Prefect. You should have feared me more," Snadge growled, and wielded a whip.

...

 **Author's Note:**

 **I know, I know. Just review. There's a lot of action and ROMANCE to come!**


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